


Greywater

by Ragno



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Jokes, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings Realization, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Phone Sex, Pining, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-12-31 01:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 89,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragno/pseuds/Ragno
Summary: The moment Richie's family moved out of Derry all the memories he always thought would be with him forever started to fade. By the time Richie moved to California in order to pursue his dreamed career he didn't even know a town called Derry existed. The word 'loser' became just an insult, 'beep-beep' was just a sound, and 'clown' was the reminder of what he didn't want to become. He worked hard to get where he wanted, and now he was down the road to real success. He had everything he could ever want or at least knew how to get it.Or maybe not.





	1. It begins

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back again, and I promise I won't make you cry this time (on purpose). When I read the book for the first time I always wondered what had happened to the losers in those 27 years, how they lived their life ignoring the existence of the rest of their best friends. What would have happened if they had met then? Would they have recognized each other? So I'm writing what I think would have happened and I hope you guys like it. Also, I was super lucky to have the amazing [dwaalserenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwaalserenity/pseuds/dwaalserenity) to beta read this fic, so she's the reason this is so much better written than the previous ones. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Making people laugh wasn’t something Richie thought he could make a living out of, not because he didn’t know that kind of job existed, but because he didn’t really think he was any good at it. He wasn’t funny, not that much at least. He was funny enough. He could make voices, do impressions, that sort of stuff. He wasn’t funny, but he could do impressions of funny people. That made people laugh for a while, until the voices start to get annoying. Richie knew how to get annoying really fast.

When he told his dad he wanted to move to California to pursue his career on whatever the fuck he was good at, he knew he would get a disapproving look at least. Of course, Wentworth knew his son wouldn’t follow the family business, and Richie was sure nobody would want a dentist with buck teeth, but still, hearing your kid say he’s just dropping out of college and leaving with the hope of finding a job offer on the back of the newspaper had to be pretty harsh.

That’s why Wentworth was the first person Richie called when he was actually hired to do stand-up comedy at The Spot, a well-known theatre in the city where Richie had acted before sometimes with his improv group.

“You mean people are paying to watch you?” Wentworth asked and Richie laughed.

“Yeah, I know. Crazy.” It was. Richie felt dizzy only thinking about it. “But they liked the show. I mean, it’s kind of like a show, you know? But it’s just me. Standing up and… saying shit.”

“Funny shit, I hope.”

“Me too,” Richie agreed. “You guys should come someday. I can get you some nice seats. Front row and everything. There are other artists, too. I’m sure mom would like some of them.”

“I’m sure she would love your act too,” his dad said, and Richie had to bite his tongue not to reply with something he would regret later. “We’ll find the time.”

“Or maybe, if this really takes off, I could, like, tour all over the country. Go back home for a few days.”

“We’ll find the time, son,” Wentworth said again, and Richie knew what that meant.

“Okay. Yeah,” he nodded, even if his dad couldn’t see him. “See you, then.”

“Of course. And, Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re proud of you, son.”

Richie smiled, bittersweet, and closed his eyes. He wanted to believe it. Not the ‘proud’ part, that he knew was true. The ‘we’ was the problem. That word that involved his dad and his mom too. Richie couldn't even remember what his mom’s voice sounded like. It had just happened. At first he would call home and talk to whoever picked up, sometimes his dad, sometimes his mom. But then his mom stopped picking up the phone and Richie never asked to speak to her, so the years went by and, when he realized, it felt like it was too late.

The thing with his mom was Richie knew she loved him, and he did love her too, but… that was mostly it. He didn’t remember a single time he had felt his mom like _a mom_. Yes, she did what moms were supposed to do, like fix him breakfast before school or kiss him good night and read him a bedtime story. She took care of him until he could take care of himself and then she just… Then she was just… there.

Richie never felt like he could talk to his mom, like really talk to her, just to share his thoughts or to ask for advice. His mom just didn’t get him. At all. It were as if they were strangers living in the same house. She didn’t show much interest in Richie’s matters but he didn’t blame her, it wasn’t like he offered any interest in his mom’s affairs either. Richie was sure his mom wanted him to have a good life, to succeed, to be happy, but in the same way you want the world to be a nice place and for people to be happy. She didn’t wish him ill, but she didn’t really care, either.

“I know, dad,” Richie responded. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.

It had taken almost seven years for Richie to get where he really wanted to be, or where he thought he wanted to be. He had every possible job in the business and out of it. He had been a barista, a maintenance helper, floor staff, crew, PA, and even handed out fucking flyers. It wasn’t easy. The first few years Richie felt like he was in a dead end, like no matter how hard he tried it wouldn’t work for him.

He started to hate the word ‘comedian’. Wanting to make a living out of making people laugh started to sound absurd, ridiculous even. Sometimes he went to this open mic night at a club near his place and felt really good when the audience responded well, only to feel like a fool once he walked out of stage and realize that was it.

_You’re just a clown, Richie_.

The voice in his head liked to torture him. And the word ‘clown’ made his stomach churn.

He wasn’t in a good place when he joined the improv class. He had just found a new job in postproduction for a TV comedy show. It was good, or at least better than the previous jobs, and Richie had accepted maybe that was it for him, he just couldn’t aim higher, but there still was a hole inside him, something he couldn’t quite grasp but weighted heavy anyway.

Richie hoped the classes would make him get out of his mind a little, at least for a while. He also hoped to meet some new people there, maybe even make friends. One of the things Richie hated the most was the loneliness, and maybe that was the reason he didn’t mind the overexploitation, the crazy working hours or the underpayment. He’d do anything to prevent going home just to be alone.

The improv class was fun, and it kind of helped Richie work on his way to approach people. He was still annoying sometimes and still didn’t know when to just shut up, but he also learned how to be charming. After all, he always had too many words, it was only a matter of time before he managed how to use them well.

Another good thing was an acquaintance at the classes had a family member working for The Spot, a well-known comedy theatre, so they would let them use the stage sometimes when there weren’t any performances or productions showing. Not a lot of people went to see them, even though they didn’t even charge anything, just some friends and friends of friends came to watch whatever the hell they would do, but it still made Richie feel like it was valued.

He was finishing off picking up props and stuff the evening he overheard the conversation between some of the cast that were part of the main show the theatre was playing. So this guy, Alan, just broke a leg hiking. It was ironic, given how many times Richie had heard that phrase, “break a leg” before people went on stage. The guy wasn’t one of the main characters, thank goodness, but he was still important and they needed someone to replace him immediately.

“I know his part,” Richie said, because he still hadn’t learn how to keep his mouth shut. He expected some dissing. They’re actors, after all. They don’t care what you know.

“Do you?” One of the girls asked, and that’s how Richie stopped picking up props and went on stage for the first time in his life.

He almost died.

Richie never thought he could freak out like that in his entire life. His legs were quivering, his arms were shaking, his stomach was dancing and he just wanted to throw up. Some crew member actually had to push him on stage and, right there, right when he set a foot on the floor, he became Richie Tozier. He said Alan’s lines, he did Alan’s voice, and he added some not-Alan things that made the audience laugh like crazy.

People. Liked him.

They weren’t laughing at him, they were laughing with him. And what was he supposed to do? Not be encouraged to do more? Craving the cheers, the ovations, the round of applause one after another, the laughs so loud he could just escape his mind and forget about his mom back at home maybe not even remembering she had a son, his dad letting go, his tiny apartment, his underpayment, the fact that he didn’t have much life outside the theatre, the feeling of having lost something you can’t remember, the loneliness, the fear of being forgotten.

“Man, you’re so good at that. You could have your own show.”

Richie had never worked so hard in his entire life. He learned how to act, how to move on stage, how to deliver and when, he learned how to wait, to be patient and create expectation, build up, maintain, release. He perfected the formula for success. He took writing classes, too.

“Damn, Rich, this is too dark.”

They didn’t work. But, fuck, he got so good at improvisation and once he started working on them, his voices were amazing. It didn’t take long till Mr. Bartlow called him to his office and offered him to have his own act, his own show. Mr. Bartlow was the kind of man you see walking down the street and immediately know he means business. It was odd that for a man who operates a place meant for laughs, Richie didn’t think he had ever seen him smile. He told Richie to work on something during the summer and present it to him before the opening season. Richie thought he wouldn’t be able to do it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t a professional. He was just a trashmouth.

“This… This is good, Richie. This is so good. This could really be something else,” Mr. Bartlow said.

He liked it.

People liked it.

And then there were posters and billboards with his fucking face on them all over the theatre.

Richie Tozier,_ look what you’ve done_.

The first week there weren’t too many people in the audience, just the right amount, the usual. It was more than Richie was used to seeing, but he still managed to control his anxiety. It wasn’t the same being part of a group scene where you can hide if you fuck it up, rather than being there all alone on stage, in front of judging people waiting for you to entertain them. He quickly made friends with Jack Daniel’s, just a shot before coming on stage, just so he could calm his nerves.

After the first week, every show was sold out.

Richie had never puked so much in his life.

He honestly thought he was coming down with something the first few days because he literally felt like shit. The show was still on, people loved it, although sometimes Richie didn’t even know how he was able to perform at all. The theatre was cashing a lot of money too, so he didn’t have the heart to ask Mr. Bartlow to cancel it. He could, however, ask him if maybe they could tone it down a little, take his face off some billboards, stop announcing it so insistently.

So that was the intention. When Richie finished his show for the day and the last round of applause was over, Richie decided it was time to face it and talk to his boss, open up about what was going on with him and maybe finding the best solution that would work for both of them.

He went backstage, saying goodbye to the crew, some of his castmates, and the people already leaving for home while he walked into the building, looking for Mr. Bartow’s office. Richie hadn’t been there often, just when he had to present his idea for the show. It was true now they had kind of a closer relationship, but Richie still saw him like his boss, someone not to be mess with. He wasn’t a bad guy, no. Richie had had a fair amount of bosses that were absolute jerks, so he knew Mr. Bartlow wouldn’t yell at him or call him useless (or so he hoped). However, he was a nervous wreck.

His palms were sweating and his heart wanted to jump out of his chest. Every step he took he kept repeating the words he would say to Mr. Bartlow in his head, changing the tone, trying different ways. No matter how he pictured it, he always ended up looking like a coward. But hey, what if he was? Cowards deserve to live too, right? And they deserve a job. Right? _Right??_

God, he didn’t want to be fired.

As Richie walked to the office he started hearing someone speaking in a kind of heated way. At first he thought there were two people, but the closer he got, the better he could understand it was just a guy speaking really fast. Like, really fast. The voice came from inside Mr. Bartlow’s office, but Richie couldn’t hear Mr. Bartlow at all. He stood there, in front of the closed door for a few seconds, just wondering what to do.

Maybe he should have knocked, at least that’s what you’re supposed to do when you face a closed door, but Richie was curious and, most of all, a knucklehead, so he just pushed at the doorknob and opened the door.

Uh. That wasn’t Mr. Bartlow.

That was a guy, kind of tiny compared to Richie, looking like he was about to have a heart attack, looking through a stack of paper and using Mr. Bartlow’s computer at the same time. All of this while rambling like a maniac. He didn’t even notice Richie coming into the room, looking at him like that scene didn’t make any sense at all.

“Hello?”

“… all the way from Queens and this is the first place I visit. Of course. Let’s fuck up the new guy, let’s send him to some fleapit run by absolute fucknuts and see if he doesn’t fucking hang himself before finishing the job…”

“Hi?” Richie tried again, walking closer, but the guy was just not having it today. He was on fire. Richie was sure he could see actual smoke coming from him.

“… and of course now there’s a dozen of excel sheets I need to compile just so I can fucking start working because these fucknuts don’t know the meaning of the word order and then I’ll need to check out the whole fucking place. Of course. Of fucking course,” the guy kept moving sheets of paper on the desk and looking at the computer in front of him. “No Occupational Risk evaluation? Really? This is just awesome. How the fuck is no one dead already??” And then the guy looked up, finally looked up, and stopped rambling for just a second before asking. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Woah, easy there, Hot Sauce. I’m Richie Tozier. I work here. My face is, like, all over the building.”

“Well, then your face is a security hazard. And I’m Edward Kaspbrak, I’m the one who’s gonna save your business,” the guy said, and Richie waited for a shake of hands or another kind of greeting of some sorts, but it never came. Instead. “Don’t call me that, by the way. Nobody does. Edward, I mean.”

“Oh, then how should I address you, your majesty?” Richie joked, making a bow. “Ned, maybe? Ted? Teddy? Teddy bear. I bet that’s how everybody calls you. Little teddy bear. You’re about the same size,” he laughed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be funny? If this places depends on you, then I think my work here is done…” the guy said, gathering some of the papers and putting them in a big folder, then carefully fitting it inside his shoulder bag. He walked right towards Richie, stopping barely inches away from crashing against him. “You mind?” He asked, and then Richie realized he was actually blocking the exit. He raised an eyebrow, though, looking down at the guy with a side smile.

“Sure, shorty,” Richie laughed, moving aside. The guy just rolled his eyes and walked away. Only he stopped at the door and looked back at Richie for a second.

“It’s Eddie, by the way.”

“Ooh, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said before he could stop himself. The guy just huffed and left, muttering something that sounded like ‘hilarious’. “Hey, wait!” Richie called, walking to the door in quick strides and looking out, leaning on the doorframe. The guy, Eddie, had stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Sorry. I just can’t help it sometimes,” he said, but that wasn’t the reason he had stopped the guy from leaving. Eddie just shrugged, brushing it off. “Hey, do you…? Do I know you? I feel like I know you.”

“Impossible. First time in California,” Eddie said. Richie frowned. Really?

“Where are you from?”

“Queens,” Eddie answered, and just for a few seconds they just stared at each other. Richie blinked a few times, feeling something in his chest growing up. Not something new, more like something that was asleep awakening for the first time in a long time. “I guess I have a pretty common face,” Eddie added.

“Pretty, that's for sure. I don’t know about common,” Richie replied, and he immediately wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall for being unable to control his mouth. The guy blushed and frowned at the same time. “Sorry. It’s, you know. Comedians. The filter…” Richie pointed at his head and mouth. “Doesn’t work.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie said, but it didn’t sound convincing. “By the way, sorry about, you know, before. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just this place is a fucking disaster. Like, financially and structurally speaking.”

“Oh, is it?” Richie moved a step closer, but didn’t let go of the doorframe. “Please, don’t get me fired,” he joked, or at least he tried. Eddie was still looking at him like there was something on Richie’s face, or like if he was a puzzle and Eddie was trying to make out the hidden picture. “So, do you want to get some coff―”

“I need to go. You know. Work,” Eddie interrupted him, kind of pointing at his bag and taking a step back. Richie took a step back too, almost trying to hide behind the doorframe again.

“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” He nodded. They both nodded. Like stupid. “See you around, then. I guess.”

“I guess,” Eddie said back, and it sounded a little unsure, it sounded like it could be a lie, but just before he turned around and left, Richie could catch out a brief smile in Eddie’s lips.

Richie stood there, watching the guy disappear at the end of the hallway, a curious smile opening on his own face. Well, that was something.


	2. It goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the love and support <3 And special thanks to Serenity for being the best beta reader in the world

“What do you mean we’re going bankrupt?!” Richie was pacing up and down the office, looking everywhere except at Mr. Bartlow.

“I’m not saying we _are_, just… it’s a possibility, Richie,” the man said. “Maybe we can avoid it. I mean, your show is getting so much attention. A lot of money is coming in. But we’re not sure if we have enough time.” Bartlow explained, but Richie wasn’t sure he could hear him clearly. There was a buzzing in his ears, the pressure in his chest making it difficult to breathe. “That’s why that kid is here, the risk analyst guy. My brother in law owed me a favor. He’s friends with this guy, the owner of an insurance company in New York. They said they would send someone to help. The kid is young, he’s an intern, so they’re not charging us that much, but he’s good. They say he has a lot of potential.”

“So he can do it? He can help save the business?” Richie asked, hopeful but equally desperate. The Spot was all he had. He didn’t just work there, it wasn’t just his source of income, it was also the place he could just _be_.

He could be an artist there, but he could also be a person. He could be a coworker, he could be a cast member, he could be a friend, sort of. He could be someone. Outside of the theatre he was nothing. He was just an empty body in an empty apartment relying too much on canned food and expresso shots.

“I hope so. But he will need your help, too.” Bartlow said, making Richie frown. “Richie, your show is really important. It’s… probably our only hope to stay in business. Your act sells better than any other we have. We need you, Richie.”

Well. So that was it. Richie lowered his head and sighed. Then he nodded. Mr. Bartlow didn’t use ‘we’ very often because ‘we’ meant the big shots had a say in it. Bartlow was Richie’s boss but he wasn’t _the_ boss. Richie had never met them, he wasn’t interested either. He wasn’t a businessman, he wasn’t doing his job because he wanted to get rich. He just wanted to do his thing, have enough money to pay rent and maybe buy a sweet ride, travel a bit, be happy. Mostly he wanted to be happy. He needed to work on how to achieve that.

“So, that guy…” Richie cleared his throat, kind of looking away, tapping his fingers on the table. “Is he, like… gonna be around much?”

Kind of weird, how thinking about happiness made him remember that guy. Edward Kaspbrak, wasn’t it? Right. Eddie.

_Eddie_. 

The name sounded different in his head, like he had said it before but in another voice. It echoed at the back of his mind and Richie felt like that should’ve triggered some memories, but nothing came out.

“I don’t think so, no. Maybe a couple of times.” Bartlow responded, waving his hand to dismiss the thought. “He’ll need to check out the place, I think, but mostly he’ll make the evaluation out of all those documents he took.”

“Oh. Okay,” Richie nodded, still looking around, still trying to act like he was not really interested in that information, he was just asking to make conversation. “So. How long will it take? The evaluation.”

“A month, tops. But they say the kid is good, so maybe even less,” Bartlow said. “Don’t worry. He won’t be a bother for too long.”

So Richie needed to work fast then.

He frowned at himself. Work on what? Was he really interested in that guy? Yeah, the guy, Eddie, made him feel certain things Richie couldn’t explain, but that didn’t mean he needed to dig in. Maybe those feelings were better left alone. Richie wasn’t exactly good at dealing with feelings and emotions and those sorts of things. The logical thing to do was to just let it go.

On the other hand, when had Richie used logic anyway?

*

“I don’t think I follow,” Steve said, making Richie roll his eyes. Steve Covall was a light and sound technician, he’d been working at The Spot almost since the place opened for the first time. Richie liked him. He liked him a lot. He was probably Richie’s only friend, like true friend and not just someone you hang out with and go have a drink just because you work together. He was smart and had a dry sense of humor that wasn’t Richie’s cup of tea sometimes but he could appreciate it anyway. He was also a good person, like genuinely good, and Richie hadn’t met a lot of those in L.A. Steve was the kind of guy who always knew what to say and how to put himself in the other’s shoes. “I mean… I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re fucking crazy.”

“Steve. You’re hurting me,” Richie sighed dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. “Is it really that hard to understand? There’s this guy…”

“Yeah, yeah. The guy from the insurance company. Short. Angry. Dresses like an idiot. You find all of these things combined hot for some reason. That’s fine. That I can understand… somehow. What I have trouble with is the rest. The part where you start acting like a psycho.”

“First of all, I never said I find him hot,” Richie pointed out, and Steve scoffed a very disrespectful laugh. “Second, I’m not a psycho, okay? There’s something off about this guy, I just feel it. I don’t know what it is but it’s there and it’s bothering me.”

“You’ve met him_ once_! And for like five seconds! Just admit you want to bone the guy.”

“I don’t…” Richie stopped himself there, tilting his head to the side. Well, thinking about it, maybe he did want to bone the guy, but that wasn’t the point. “I don’t. Steve. He’s a guy. I joke about boning guys. I don’t actually do it.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Have you thought about that?”

“Are you offering? Is this your way of telling me you want me to bone you?”

“I’m in a very happy and committed relationship with my right hand, thank you very much,” Steve said, making Richie laugh.

“I’m an awesome lay, just saying,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve made a face.

“How would you know? You haven’t touched a human since you had that weird hand job at the movies like three years ago.”

“It wasn’t that weird, she just… ate popcorn before doing it and her hands were like… sticky but in a bad way…”

“Richie. Stop beating around the bush. That guy. You’re harassing him.”

“Come on! If you’re talking about what happened at the talk, I just teased him a little!”

Richie didn’t know risk analysts gave talks about safety and stuff like that. In fact, when they all were called to a meeting he thought they were going to tell them The Spot was definitely closing or something like that. He sat down there, waiting for either some bad news or some boring shit, when the guy, Eddie, came in.

It ended up being pretty boring anyway, but Richie spent the whole two hours making the stupidest questions he could think of. Honestly, he'd never had so much dumb shit come out of his mouth ever in his life. He managed to make those hours a little more enjoyable, though, because his coworkers were cracking up all the time.

“He wanted to kill you. If eyes could kill you would have died multiple times that day,” Steve said. “You were annoying on purpose. You sabotaged the talk. And then you followed him around the theatre when he was talking to us, _the crew_, about security hazards. You didn’t even need to come! The only risk your job has is people not laughing at your jokes and hurting your feelings! But you came anyway, asking things like: if I fell down the balcony would the insurance cover it? If I got electrocuted by my microphone would the insurance cover it? If the cleaning service left a bleach bottle unattended and I drink from it, and I died, would the insurance cover it? If I fucking came to work totally hammered, and I passed out, and I vomited, and drown on my own vomit, on stage, would the insurance cover it?? Don’t fucking laugh!”

Richie just shook his head, trying to stop laughing, but he just couldn’t help it. And Steve couldn’t either, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, there was a smile there on his face. He laughed too back then, when Richie did all that. He was a bad influence.

“Please, stop,” Richie he begged. “I know. It was hilarious.”

“Dude, that guy hates your guts.”

“Nah,” Richie moved a dismissive hand. “I think he likes me. But even if he didn’t. I don’t think how you can call that harassment. A bother, yes, but harassment?”

“Oh, I don’t call that harassment. I call harassment what you did this morning when Bartlow told you he wasn’t coming back because his job there was done and he could do the rest from home,” Steve replied in a very, very judgmental tone.

Oh well. Richie made a face.

“That… has an explanation.”

“How the fuck can you ex―”

“It’s not what it looks like!!”

“You fucking called his office!!”

“I know!”

“In Queens!!”

_“I know!!”_

Richie wasn’t proud of it.

Well.

“I just… I swear to God, Steve. I don’t wanna fuck him. It wasn’t some creepy move. I mean. It _was_ kinda creepy, but not like that.” Richie sighed and for a second wished he hadn’t quit smoking. “I know that guy from somewhere. There’s something inside me telling me I know him, like some kind of déjà vu. If he lived here I would’ve asked around, but nobody knows him here, so I just called…” Richie stopped and made a face. It actually sounded pretty creepy. “Look, I didn’t ask for his address or anything. I just asked for his credential, all professional and shit.”

Eddie Kaspbrak was 27, lived in Queens, had a Bachelor’s degree in statistics and a Master’s in business. He was, to quote his boss, ‘a bit unstable but very, very professional’. Richie didn’t mention he smiled like a fool when he heard that. He knew the way he was acting wasn’t normal, but he just couldn’t explain why he knew he couldn’t stop even if he tried. There was something about this Eddie and Richie needed to figure it out before he ended up losing his mind. Or in jail.

“I won’t do it again,” Richie assured, just to put Steve’s mind to rest. “It’s pointless anyway.”

“That’s good. That’s good,” Steve nodded. Then he looked at Richie, tilting his head. “Would you leave it alone, then?” He asked. It was a good question. “Richie?”

Such a good question.

“Richie, come on!”

*

“Are you sure you wanna do it?” Barb asked him. She was Richie’s scene partner in most group performances. She understood Richie’s stupid sense of humor because hers was equally shitty.

“It’s just for fun,” Richie shrugged it off with a smile. “The guy must have some sense of humor.”

He hoped so.

Richie didn’t really know what he wanted to get out of mocking Eddie’s job. Maybe it was like when you’re a kid and you like a girl, so you tease her and pull at her pigtails, and make her cry and hate you and she tells the teacher and you end up getting sent to the principal’s office…

Richie frowned at himself. Damn, kids were really mean.

But he wasn’t like that in school. He didn’t remember being like that anyway (he didn’t remember much, to be honest). So he didn’t know why the moment he was told Eddie would be evaluating the place that day he just went crazy and rewrote some of the jokes in his show just to mess with the guy. He didn’t even know if Eddie would be watching the show at all, so it was mostly a childlike move to satisfy his inner asshole.

_It’s the attention. That’s what you want. His attention._

Richie closed his eyes and breathed in and out until his hands felt a little less shaky. Out in five, four, three, two…

His name was shouted, people cheered, the lights were blinding and, for just a second, Richie thought he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He wanted to run. Just to run, from the audience, from the job, from himself, from his beating heart and his sweaty forehead and his wobbly knees. Then he held the mic and everything was gone. He smiled.

Richie Tozier, ladies and gentlemen.

His show was mostly the same every time. He changed some things sometimes, he came from an improv background after all, so he liked to ad-lib a bit. The content remained the same though, unless something really funny happened that day, like the president saying something stupid, then he would add a little joke about it. He had never gone so far out of his way just to piss some guy off.

“… And speaking of, you guys don’t know, but we’ve got a very special guest today. No. No, don’t look around, he’s not here. He’s a _risk analyst_,” he said in posh accent. He didn’t really know why, he never had a real reason to use one of his accents, but people just laughed. “I won’t ask if there’s any risk analysts in the audience today, I assume if you’ve come to see this show you have a minimum of sense of humor.”

“Can you imagine? No, can you really imagine? Are you born that way or you just wake up one day and decide you want to dedicate your life to do the _most boring shit ever_? I must say, I was stoked at first. Like, we’ve hired a guy to check if the building is falling down on our heads, I hope he does a really shitty job and we all die,” he said, raising his hand. “No, hear me out. Nothing says you’ve made it like dying a really tragic death. No matter what you do, music, acting, whatever, even if you’re mediocre, it only takes you dying a horrible death for everybody to praise you like you were just _so good_. Just too good for this world, man. You think they would have made a whole religion out of Jesus Christ if he had died of, I don’t know, pneumonia? Don’t think so.”

“I was so fucking stoked, man. Like, I’m gonna be the next John Lennon. The next James Dean. I bet you haven’t seen a single movie featuring James Dean, but you know he was _good_. You just know. Because _he died_.” Richie said after a pause, waiting for people to stop laughing so he could go on. “I’d be a star. I would because I wouldn’t die alone. You all would go down with me. Yeah, that’s right, this shit falls on our heads and we all fucking die horrible deaths and I become a fucking star. And, if any of you survive you better fucking say this was the best show of your life, you hear me?” Richie pointed at the public, using a really serious face. Then he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would have been awesome. Then they tell me: no, this guy is here to analyze our _finances_.” He made a pause. A long pause. “_Finances?_ So you mean I’m not gonna be a star? You mean we’re just _broke_??... And that’s why you would need to buy a ticket if you want to get out of the building. From now on, you’ll need a ticket to get in and a ticket to get out. Not my fault! Not mine. Just thank the risk guy, totally his idea.” He made a pause, bringing a hand to his face. “Risk evaluation, Jesus Christ… I’m being honest with you here, I looked up some jokes about risk evaluation. They. Don’t. Exist. I kid you not, I typed ‘risk analyst jokes’, pressed search and Google was like, ‘are you fucking kidding me, man?’ There was nothing there. There was a fucking desert. Are these people even real? Why don’t we get robots to do this shit? It’s impossible. It’s literally impossible to make jokes about these guys, they’re like black holes that suck all the fun, they’re the voice of your mother telling you to come home early, they’re your father telling you to wear a fucking helmet when you’re riding your bike. Nothing fun has ever happened to someone wearing a helmet. Fun happens when you _should_ wear it but you don’t. _But you could die!_” Richie said in a whiny voice. “Yes! Exactly. Have you not been listening? That’s the fucking point.”

The show went on as usual, Richie returned to his normal script and, by the end of the show, people were giving him a standing ovation. He still didn’t know, to this day, why people liked him so much, what was so funny about the shit he said, but it worked, and he loved the rush of adrenaline running through his veins every time he left the stage. His workmates congratulated him as usual, patting his back and hugging him.

“That was awesome, Richie.”

“Great job, man!”

“You really went there, Rich.”

“So I’m a black hole that sucks all the fun, huh?”

_Oh shit._

Richie turned his head just to meet a very pissed Eddie Kaspbrak looking at him with his arms crossed and his foot tap, tap, tapping like that and in front of him wasn’t a man, it was a ticking bomb. Richie actually felt _threatened_ and a nervous laugh escaped his lips before he took a couple of steps forward to face the consequences of his acts.

“It sounds about right. Also, you’re pretty scary right now. Like, you know, black holes.”

“And what are you? In this scenario where I’m a black hole, what are you supposed to be, Mr. Fun? The sun?” Eddie asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, God, no. I’m a cockroach. Dirty, disgusting, hard to kill, don’t want it near you but it makes you laugh when you see it interact with other, less fortunate, people.”

Eddie blinked, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. Richie smiled, putting his hands under his chin, framing his face.

“I’m also super charming.”

“You’re not,” Eddie quickly replied. “You’re weird. Your clothes are weird. Your glasses are weird. Your hair is pretty stupid. Your face is…” he frowned, shaking his head. “Also, you’re not funny at all. I don’t know what people tell you and I don’t actually know why the audience laughed at your jokes, maybe they were promised something in return, maybe they were held hostages and laughing was the only way to please their captors, but I _promise_ you, you’re not funny. At all. You’re, like, the least funny guy I’ve ever met.” He said, sounding pretty sure of himself. “And you’re definitely the least funny guy who’s ever bought me a coffee.”

“I’ve never b―” Richie stopped himself, actually choked on his words when he realized what the guy actually meant. He blushed. Like a twelve year old. Fuck. Eddie opened a smug smile Richie could have never expected. “Okay.”

“Okay? You owe me, after what you did out there. And everything else,” Eddie said, taking his wallet from his back pocket and looking for something in it. He handed Richie a card. “My mornings are busy. The evenings are okay. But text first. Sometimes work is a bitch.”

“Yes, sir,” Richie replied, doing the military salute while he looked at the card.

**Edward Kaspbrak**

_Risk Analyst_

“I’m more fun than you could ever imagine. Just saying.” Richie looked up when he heard Eddie speak, but he was already leaving.

“Is that a promise?” Richie shouted, but Eddie was too far gone to bother answering him. Richie kept looking at the card. He had gotten a fair amount of numbers in his life, but he had never gotten a business card that wasn’t meant for business. Or that’s what Richie thought, at least. Maybe Eddie did want to talk business, maybe he wanted to talk Richie into hiring someone to write better jokes for him.

Eddie had called Richie weird, but he wasn’t too close to normal, either. Richie put the card away, keeping it safe in his back pocket. Whatever it meant, he was in.


	3. It works

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween guys! I changed the rating to explicit and added some tags because things are getting more heated up than I intended in the first place (not in this chapter tho), so better safe than sorry, right? I guess that's what happens when you start writing something and then your own characters take charge and do whatever the fuck they want... Anyway, I hope you still like it! And the biggest thank you to [Serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwaalserenity/pseuds/dwaalserenity) for making my shitty grammar look good. You're amazing!

Richie. Was. _FreakingOut._

He had been pacing up and down his apartment for a total of two hours since he woke up (the closest thing to a work out he'd done in a while) looking at his cellphone like it was some kind of cryptic hieroglyph he couldn’t understand. In his hand, spinning between his fingers, was Eddie’s card. He hadn’t messaged Eddie yet. He hadn’t even saved the number. It was… just…

Richie wasn’t good at this. He was good at making jokes, he was good at pretending to be flirty and cocky, he was good at it because he knew it wouldn’t work. He was good at it _only_ when he was sure it wouldn’t work. He did it to annoy people, not to actually get a date out of it. And going for coffee wasn’t even a date, right? Eddie didn’t ask him out for a date. That’d be crazy. Right? Eddie just wanted Richie to compensate for the teasing, somehow. Or maybe he wanted to get revenge. Maybe he wanted to take Richie to a super expensive coffee shop and ask for a goddamn gold laced cappuccino and make Richie spend on him every last dollar he earned talking shit about his profession.

Yeah, he was losing his mind.

“Just text. Just text. It’s a fucking text, come on!” He wanted to punch himself. He wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall. “Do it. Fucking…” Richie grabbed his phone and flipped it open, just to close it again and throw it against the couch like it just caught on fire. “Can’t. Can’t. Fuck.”

What was the deal? Honestly, it was just a fucking message asking him out for a coffee. He even asked first! _Remember, Richie?_ You asked him first. The very first time you saw him. Seconds after calling him _Eddie Spaghetti_, for fuck’s sake. Why was it so difficult to do now? It’s not like he could fear rejection, right? Eddie even asked for it himself. He gave him his card. He wouldn’t do that just to mess with him. But what did Richie know? He didn’t know Eddie! Maybe Eddie was a vicious motherfucker who _somehow_ knew what was going on in Richie’s head and wanted to mess with him.

Richie grabbed the phone, flipping it open again.

“I’m going fucking crazy,” he said the moment the dialing tone cut.

“Richie?” The voice at the other end of the line sounded confused, and tired. “Man, it’s too early for this shit.”

“I know,” Richie looked at the clock on his wall. 8:05 a.m., he was still on time. “I just thought I could ask him to go get breakfast or something. But he said mornings were busy. But it’s Saturday. He doesn’t work on Saturday, right? Like, office jobs don’t usually…”

“Richie, stop right there. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Steve. I need your help. I don’t know what to do,” Richie rubbed his face, falling into the couch, wondering how difficult it would be to just be sucked down by it, disappearing. God, he was such a dramatic bitch.

No. No. His anxiety was. He was a _victim_.

“Is this about the risk guy again?” Steve asked in an even more tired tone now.

“Eddie.”

“_Eddie_,” Steve corrected, and Richie could feel him rolling his eyes. “Jesus, dude, you really like that guy, huh?”

“I don’t! I mean. I think… I don’t know. Do I?”

“Are you asking me?”

“You’re the one that keeps telling me I do! How the fuck would I know if I… Do I like guys? Like, you know what I mean.” That was a weird question to ask, Richie knew that. On the other hand, he really didn’t know the answer.

“Richie. You talk about guys, you talk about _hot_ guys, you joke about fucking guys and I’m pretty sure you think about it too. So yeah. I think you like guys.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a problem?”

Richie bit the inside of his mouth. Was it a problem? Well, not really. Only he was always awkward around girls, so maybe now he’d be awkward around guys too.

Or maybe being into guys was the reason he was always awkward around girls.

Oh, shit.

“I don’t think so,” Richie finally answered. “I guess it makes sense,” he added, and now he really could see Steve rolling his eyes. “I won’t steal any guy from you, by the way. Now that I know this,” Richie said, and that made Steve burst into laughter. “What?”

“You’re crazy, dude. Thank you for your consideration,” Steve said sarcastically, still laughing.

“I’m just saying! I’m being polite.”

“I’d really like to see you try, Richie. You can’t even ask a guy out for coffee.”

“Fuck off!” Richie laughed too. Steve was right, though. He was a pussy. “You know what? I’m gonna call him.”

“Sure you are.”

“Watch me, bitch.”

“Just do it, motherfuck―”

Richie hung up and took the card, dialing the number before he could change his mind.

Dialing tone.

Richie took a deep breath. He couldn’t hang up now, could he?

His hands started to sweat as the anxiety filled up his body once again. He was shaking, for God’s sake, it was genuinely worse than anything he had ever felt before starting a show, and he’d had pretty awful days. He was ready to hang up and accept Eddie was just busy and leave it alone forever when a voice startled him.

“_Wha?_” it sounded rough and throaty. Richie froze when he heard it. Shit. Eddie was asleep. He had woken him up.

“Shit. Did I wake you up?” He asked. Like a fool.

“Who is this?” Richie couldn’t see Eddie, but he was sure his expression was not happy right now. Richie hid his face in his palm and shook his head. So stupid.

“Richie? Tozier? I thought maybe you’d like to get breakfast together? I know this really cool place, they have great shit, like Colombian coffee and stuff. And you said I owed you, so I thought it could be nice?” Could he even talk in sentences anymore? Was he only able to ask questions? Richie bit his lip and closed his eyes hard, ready to take the hit. He wasn’t a stranger to rejection but somehow that felt like the first time asking someone out.

“Oh…” Eddie said, and he stood in silence maybe for a few seconds. It felt like hours. Richie hadn’t talked all that much to Eddie, but he was already used to the guy’s rushing words. Hearing him talk so slow was… unsettling. “Is it, like, far away? Can you pick me up? I have a company car and they check the odometer, those motherfuckers.”

“I― No, I mean. It’s― Yeah. I can pick you up,” Richie nodded. Picking Eddie up. Sure. He could do that. No problem.

“Great. I’ll text you the address. Gonna take a shower real quick. I’m filthy.”

“Uh.”

Eddie hung up, and Richie was left alone in the middle of his living room, phone in hand and blushing like a teenager.

*

“Didn’t take you for an early bird.” Those were the first words that came out of Eddie’s mouth the moment he entered Richie’s car. Not ‘good morning’, not ‘hello’, just that phrase, almost an accusation made in a grumpy tone. Richie almost felt guilty.

“You look like shit,” he replied, because it was the truth. Eddie looked like he had been hit by a train. His hair was still wet, locks sticking out everywhere, his skin was kind of pale, mostly in contrast with the deep dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing a polo shirt and skinny jeans, and it was an improvement considering Richie had only seen him wear suits too big for his tiny figure (not that tiny, but definitely tiny compared to Richie).

“Let’s see if that coffee of yours can work some magic,” Eddie grunted again. So, not a morning person. That was okay, Richie wasn’t either. Waking up early wasn’t something he was used to doing unless he was a nervous wreck about something. Like, you know, right now.

They didn’t talk on the way in, which was oddly comforting, considering Richie never knew how to deal with silence and usually felt the need to fill it with literally anything. Yet the silence felt good around Eddie, like it was something they had experienced before although it really wasn’t like that. Eddie kept his eyes closed during the ride, and Richie kept sneaking glances at him all the time. He didn’t look so feral like that, he looked sweet and almost innocent, which Richie was sure Eddie was none of.

“Hey, we’re here,” Richie called, making Eddie open his eyes immediately.

“I wasn’t asleep,” he answered, blinking fast and looking around and outside the window. Richie chuckled.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t worry. Now coffee.”

Richie felt anxious coming into the coffee shop. Suddenly it was like everything was on him, like he was responsible for the place being nice, well decorated, for the barista to be pleasant, for the coffee to be good. It happened sometimes, he liked something a lot and recommended it to some friends, and suddenly it was as if it was his responsibility, like it was his fault if his friend didn’t enjoy said thing because he had a shitty taste.

They ordered and sat outside on the terrace because it was sunny and warm, and Eddie said he could use some sun on his face. Richie ordered eggs, omelet, waffles and a tall latte. Eddie ordered an espresso and a croissant.

“What are you, French or something?” Richie asked, raising an eyebrow at Eddie’s ‘breakfast’. Eddie just made him shush, finger on lips and everything, before drinking his espresso like it was a shot of whiskey. He actually moaned, closing his eyes and humming like that coffee was the best thing he had ever put in his mouth.

“So much better now,” Eddie said, more to himself that to Richie. “I can’t eat a lot in the mornings. If I tried to eat everything you ordered I would throw up. Also I can name like a hundred things that are bad for you in those plates,” he said, pointing at Richie’s food.

“Didn’t take you for a health freak,” Richie commented, shoving almost a whole waffle into his mouth. Eddie looked at him with a mixture of disgust and something like amusement.

“I’m not. I just… can’t help it. You haven’t met my mom.”

“Well, Edward, I think it’s too early to meet the in-laws just yet.”

“That’s a bummer. I really wanted to take you to the cemetery for our second date,” Eddie said sarcastically and it took Richie a second to understand what he meant, mostly because he got stuck on the word ‘date’.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Eddie. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Eddie raised a hand, shaking his head. “It happened a few years ago. She wasn’t, uh… I knew it would happen. She would have hated Queens anyway,” he said, picking apart a piece of his croissant and eating it. “My dad passed too, but it happened when I was a kid, like very little. I’m not even sure how old I was. I don’t really… remember him. Shit, why am I telling you this?” He laughed, rubbing his face with his palms. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all…”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Look, I don’t… Well, it’s not the same at all, but I haven’t seen my parents since I moved here. I haven’t actually talked to my mom since…” Richie clicked his tongue, looking down. “Yeah.”

Richie looked at his plate. He never found waffles so interesting.

“Well, that was a nice start,” Eddie smiled a little, looking up at Richie. “So are those your only two modes? Shitty jokes and dark, personal stuff?”

“Sometimes I combine them into one super mode where I make shitty jokes about really dark, personal stuff. I use it at parties when I want to ruin the mood,” Richie answered, looking back at Eddie and smiling too.

“You ever act like a human being? Like a normal one, I mean.”

“Only when it’s on the script,” Richie said, and nodded when Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t know this. I used to be some kind of actor before they gave me the show. I can do impressions, so I played a lot of different roles. One of my best impressions? Normal Human Being. People loved that one.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Eddie laughed.

“Yeah? Sure. You ready?” Richie asked, sitting up and straightening his clothes, clearing his throat. “So, how are you liking the city so far?” he asked, using a very formal tone that made Eddie laugh again.

It was nice, Eddie had a pretty laugh. Richie hoped all that talking was masking the way he couldn’t stop holding his hands together in an attempt to make them stop shaking. He was used to being nervous, he's dealt with anxiety almost every day of his life, so he knew all the tricks to keep people from noticing. But it was never like this. It was just a coffee, for Christ’s sake. Coffee with a really cute guy Richie found extremely fascinating for some reason.

“Haven’t really seen that much,” Eddie shrugged, still smiling. “They just sent me here to work on, like, four different companies and I need to get the job done in three months, so I’m constantly confined in the shitty hotel the put me in. And I know it could be worse, like it could be a motel instead, and God knows if I see a cockroach I’d probably shoot it and then shoot myself, and they don’t want me dead because who else would do this shitty job while getting paid half the normal salary? No fucking one. But then again, I bet if you got a blue light in my room you’d find like, eight murders happened in there,” he said, picking apart his croissant and eating a piece.

“It could be worse,” Richie replied, and Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow. “Instead of a murder, it could have been an orgy. You know?” He said, watching Eddie drop the piece of croissant in his hand and start gagging. “Jizz everywhere instead of blood. I feel so much more comfortable with blood,” he insisted, trying to bite down the smile fighting to come out and show Eddie how much he was enjoying that little torture.

“You’re so fucking disgusting,” Eddie made a face, like he could taste the conversation, taking his mug to sip at the coffee. “And that’s where the Normal Human Being impression ends.”

“You sure you don’t want cream with that?” Richie asked, and he cracked up laughing when Eddie almost spit his coffee all over the table. “Oh my God! Dude, are you okay?” He tried to show real concern but he just couldn’t stop laughing. Eddies murderous glance didn’t help at all either.

“So not funny, asshole,” Eddie wiped up his chin, where some of the coffee actually had spilled out. Richie could see a little smile at the corner of his lips, though. He liked to play the decent, shy boy, but there was a part of him that liked Richie’s mouth (words, words!!) and he couldn’t hide it. “How old are you?” Eddie asked like he was actually curious.

“Twenty-seven?” Richie replied, kind of knowing where that was going.

“No. Fuck no. You’re five.” Eddie corrected him. “There’s no other explanation. You can’t actually be my age. No way.”

“No way _you _are twenty-seven!” Richie laughed. “Come on, you must be like twenty. Nineteen, even. You’re so tiny and cute.”

“I’m not tiny. I could fuck you up,” Eddie said, really sure of himself, making Richie laugh harder.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You could totally fuck me… _up_,” he joked. “You’re tiny, though.”

“So you’re one of those, huh?”

“I’m one of a kind, honey,” Richie said in a voice, not sure which one. He liked how Eddie tried to ignore the blush that had spread up his cheeks. The guy was so easy and yet so fucking difficult.

“I mean the ones who are always joking about sex and dirty stuff,” Eddie said.

“And you are my long lost grandma!” Richie brought his hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you’re here, Nana!”

“Shut up!” Eddie ordered and opened a mischievous smile that made Richie question if it was him who was the one blushing now. “You know what they say about those people?”

“Oh, please tell me,” Richie encouraged him with a big smile, but had to swallow hard when Eddie actually moved, leaning in on the table, getting closer to Richie’s face, holding that grin. And then, he whispered.

“Barking dogs seldom bite.”

Oh shit.

Richie mouthed like a fish out of water, feeling his cheeks burn along with his brain, adding the shame of not finding a good response quickly but also fighting with whatever was coming to life in his pants. So he was the easy one after all, go figure.

“Oh, wow,” he finally said, shaking his head while Eddie just moved back and started laughing. That motherfucker really laughed prettily. “Wow. No. Really. You have no idea what you just did…”

“And what exactly did I do?” Eddie dared to ask, like it was some sort of game.

“You… now forced me to prove I do bite. That’s what you did.”

That’s what he did. And he also made Richie’s heart beat like crazy, he put pictures in Richie’s head he didn’t want there, he made Richie question his whole existence. Eddie just looked at him, and Richie would actually pay to know what was going through his mind, if he was wondering if Richie’s words were true, if he really could bite at all, if he would. Richie was wondering the same too. Would he bite, if Eddie let him?

Chills run down his spine. What was going on with him?

“Who are you?”

The question made Richie snap out of his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting that.

“What?”

“Who are you?” Eddie asked again, and it felt like he needed a specific answer Richie wasn’t sure he could provide. “The first time I saw you, you said you knew me, or at least you thought you knew me, you thought we had met before and that’s impossible. That’s… But I feel the same! I feel like I’ve heard every joke you tell and not only because they’re old and awful, but because I… I’ve fucking heard them before. I’ve heard you talk shit, I’ve heard you say dirty stuff, I’ve heard you… flirt with me just to tease me. And I mean it. I mean I’ve _heard_ you, I’ve heard your voice, I’ve heard the words coming out of your mouth, or at least it feels that way and I don’t know why or how but you do, right? You have to know! Because we don’t know each other but you… talk to me like we’re friends and… Do you really act like that with everyone? Because I sure as hell don’t. I promise you, if anyone else said the shit you say to me and I swear to God I would've kicked them right in the nuts, but you do and I just feel…”

“What? What do you feel?” Richie asked quickly when Eddie didn’t finish the sentence. “Eddie?”

Eddie just moved his lips like he couldn’t get any words out, looking at Richie in disbelief.

“Who the fuck are you? And why do I…?” Eddie blinked fast, swallowing and pressing his lips together, his eyes opening wide like he just realized something.

“I’m Richie Tozier. I’m twenty-seven. I work as a comedian at The Spot. My dad’s name is Wentworth, my mom’s is Maggie. I’ve lived in a bunch of places I don’t even remember because my memory is shit. But I know I remember you. I don’t remember your name and I don’t remember your face, but I remember you. So I hope this helps you somehow, because I feel the same way and I’m actually going crazy.”

Eddie frowned, looking at Richie like a desperate man, trying to find some clue in Richie’s speech. His confused face a tell that he couldn’t find anything. He closed his eyes, breathing hard.

“Okay. This is fucking weird. We need to get to the bottom of this,” he said, looking back at Richie with a determined look. “Do you have plans for lunch?”


	4. It matters

By the look on Steve’s face, Richie could tell he was already tired of hearing him talk about Eddie. It wasn’t Richie’s fault. He wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was always hard for Richie to keep words inside his head, the moment a thought crossed his mind it was automatically delivered by his mouth to whoever was closest to him. Steve was just the poor bastard always around for Richie to talk to. It also helped that Steve was a good listener.

“Oh, no. You really think I’m listening? Man, the moment I hear the name ‘Eddie’ coming out of your mouth I immediately zone out.”

“Steve, you bastard.”

“Is he coming tonight too?” Steve asked, ignoring the insult. It made Richie smile immediately. He and Eddie, they had been hanging out a lot lately, mostly because they wanted to try and learn as much as they could about each other just to see if they could figure out what was going on between them, why they felt like they knew each other. For now, though, they'd only found out they really enjoyed each other’s company (although Eddie wouldn’t admit it out loud, that's for sure).

“I don’t think so. But we’re meeting after the show for a drink,” Richie said. “You can come if you want to,” he added, chuckling when Steve made a face.

“Third wheeling on a Tuesday night. Can’t think of anything I’d love to do more. Except for maybe, I don’t know, shooting myself in the face.”

“We’re just friends, Steve,” Richie said, but Steve just rolled his eyes and walked away to do his job.

Richie didn’t blame him, but he was just… happy. He didn’t remember the last time he felt that way, jolly and gleeful and all those other words you only hear in Christmas songs and the sort. Eddie liked him. Maybe he hadn’t said it yet, maybe he would never say it, but Richie knew he liked him. No one who despised him as much as Eddie claims to would spend so much time with him, willingly listening to him, asking him questions, _laughing at his jokes_.

Eddie laughed at Richie’s jokes. A lot. And Richie could see Eddie hated that, which made everything so much funnier. There’s no better feeling than making someone laugh when they don’t want to. In the few days they had spent together Richie had learned what worked better to make Eddie laugh. He still made a lot of his usual jokes and he couldn’t make himself stop teasing Eddie (which Richie suspected Eddie didn’t hate that as much as he claimed either), but he also added a lot of self-deprecating humor. That never failed to make Eddie crack up, but also made Eddie open up too, like that kind of humor made Richie more approachable, more relatable.

He also learned a lot about Eddie’s background, his family, his past. He learned about Eddie’s mom, a woman Richie was sure would have hated him. Eddie talked about her with the kind of love one would expect a son to talk about his mom, but she didn’t really sound like a good mother at all. She seemed controlling and incapacitating, the kind of person who would make you think you’re weak and small just so they can keep you by their side. She really seemed clinically troubled, and Richie understood the reasons Eddie gave him to explain why. Eddie’s dad died of cancer and that made his mom so afraid of losing her son so she tried to protect him from literally everything. What Eddie seemed to ignore was how that also made him think he was more fragile than he really was.

Eddie was strong. Richie was sure he wouldn’t have been able to handle everything Eddie had gone through in his life. Talking about it made Richie feel like his life at home was a bliss compared to what Eddie had gone through. He was strong but, most of all, he was resilient. Richie found it funny how Eddie would talk about how afraid he was the first time he left home for college, when he had to stand up for himself in front of his mom, or even when he came to LA without knowing what to expect, thinking he was a coward for it.

“I’m a pussy. That’s the truth and I accept it,” Eddie said, beer in hand.

“You’re so far from being a pussy. I mean, you actually did all those things! You were afraid and still did it. If that’s not the definition of courage, I don’t even know…” Richie talked with his hands, throwing them in the air. “You can only be brave when you’re afraid. It’s easy to do things you’re not afraid of. You need to be brave to do the things you fear.”

Eddie smiled, looking down at his beer bottle and taking a sip.

“Thanks,” he said softly, licking his lips before looking back at Richie. “I guess that’s the reason I chose this job, as boring as it can be,” Eddie added sarcastically, making Richie roll his eyes. “I never had much control over my own life, I still don’t think I have much, to be honest. Like, anything could happen. But at my job I get to take control. I know what can go wrong and how and when, and I can fix things, I can avoid risks, I can help people be safe. In my job I get to be who I r―” Eddie looked down when his phone started ringing. “Oh. Sorry, gimme a minute,” he apologized, stepping out to take the call.

Richie watched him go, thinking about what Eddie had just told him (and maybe just a little about how those jeans fit perfectly around Eddie’s ass). It sort of made sense, the reason behind Eddie’s chosen career. It really did look like people around Eddie didn’t give him much chance to be himself, to make decisions and to take hold of his own life. It was a weird picture because, from what Richie had seen, Eddie seemed confident, self-assured, maybe even opinionated and bossy. It was difficult to imagine him being manipulated by anyone. Then again, Richie hadn’t seen Eddie in any context other than them hanging out together. Also, Eddie behaved like a professional the times he had visited the theatre, and he always answered the phone no matter how late his boss would call him. Maybe the reason Eddie acted like that around Richie was because he felt comfortable enough. That did make Richie smile.

“Sorry, I had to…” Eddie apologized when he came back and sat down, calling the waiter to ask for another round.

“No worries. Duty call. I understand,” Richie brushed it off.

“Yeah, I guess you’re not the only one who’s irresistible,” Eddie joked, and Richie blinked a couple of times, trying to understand what that meant. Eddie didn’t seem to notice. “So, back to the conversation, what about you? How did you know you wanted to be a comedian?”

“I don’t know, I guess it was just the only thing I thought I’d be good at, since everybody laughed at me already, I thought I might as well get paid for it,” Richie said, and only realized what his words really meant when Eddie frowned a little, twisting his mouth.

“That’s dark, man,” he said in a soft laugh that sounded more like pity somehow.

“I’m just kidding,” Richie waved it off, not really sure if that was a lie or not. He sipped at his drink, looking down at it, thinking about it. “I’d never thought about it, to be honest. But now that you ask, looking back… I think I know when it started, kind of. I remember being maybe fifteen or sixteen, my folks had just moved to a new town and I didn’t have any friends, also wasn’t in the mood to make new ones. So I just stayed up all night watching TV, a tiny one my dad had gotten me. And I remember there was like a comedy special or something like that. I honestly don’t know who were there but I do remember laughing so hard I had to put a pillow on my face because it was so fucking late and I was going to wake everybody up,” he said, smiling at the thought. “It was awful. It was one of those laughs you can’t stop no matter what, until you end up coughing so hard you think you might die.”

“So that was it, then. You realized your goal in life was to kill people, and making them laugh to death seemed like a good plan,” Eddie said in a really serious tone, what made Richie laugh.

“Yes! Exactly.”

“Now I understand all that shit you said about the theatre falling down,” Eddie smiled.

“You got me,” Richie nodded, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I remember I had so much fun, but also… it made everything else go away. Like, for the couple of hours I was watching TV and laughing, I didn’t think about anything else. I could just forget about… you know. Everything. So I guess I decided I wanted to be a comedian just so I could help people forget about everything else for a while, too.”

Richie looked down, thinking about what he said, how he'd never really thought about it. He wasn’t used to opening up about his feelings and such, he wasn’t even that in touch with them. Most of the time, Richie’s way of dealing with emotions was repressing them and locking them up, throwing the key away. With Eddie, though… it was easy. That was the word.

“You are a very nice guy,” Eddie said after a couple of seconds of silence, and it really sounded like he wasn’t happy with that realization. “Like, I really wanted to hate you. You are so stupid, let’s be honest. But you’re also… nice. Like, really nice. Genuinely nice.”

“Uh… I’m sorry?” Richie asked and Eddie smiled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

They stood in silence for a second, just looking at each other, and Richie felt that connection, the one you don’t need words to describe it because it’s just about electricity between two people, skin pulling towards skin like a magnet, synapsis firing up.

“You can say it, come on,” Richie said, opening a smug smile, not looking away from Eddie even for a second.

“Say what?”

“You like me,” Richie answered, and Eddie started laughing hard.

“Fuck off. No, that’s not what I said.”

“No, I know you didn’t say it. I’m telling you it’s okay to say it. Come on. You like me, just say it.”

“I said you’re _nice_, that doesn’t mean I like you!”

“I know, but you do. I know you don’t want to, but you do. You like me a lot, actually,” Richie pushed, leaning in on the table so he could lower his voice. “Say it.”

“You suck,” Eddie said after leaning in too.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Richie replied. He waited for Eddie to say something about it, to act grossed out or maybe even ignore him like he had done other times.

Eddie seemed unaffected, though. He didn’t even look away. He did lean back on his chair, but his eyes stayed fixed on Richie’s almost to the point of making him feel self-conscious.

“I bet I wouldn’t even need to ask nicely,” Eddie said then, and Richie felt his mouth get dry. “In fact, I bet you wouldn’t like if I asked nicely. I bet you’d like it if I just―”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself!” Richie interrupted him, his voice almost cracking. Eddie burst into laughter, covering his face with his hands. “Thought about it much?”

“Not really. You just seem pretty easy.”

“You wish, baby,” Richie tried to keep it cool, grabbing his drink and hiding his other hand under the table so Eddie couldn’t see it shaking. He also needed to tug at his jeans because they were getting a little tight around his crotch area. “You know? I may be easy,” he said, making Eddie laugh harder, “but that doesn’t mean I’d let you be in charge, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, it looks like that’s what _you_ were thinking. Is that what you like?”

“I didn’t…” Richie shut up when he felt the heat radiating from his face, Eddie pointing at him with an amused face.

“Oh, you would like that!”

“Fuck off. Don’t use my own methods against me. I’m supposed to be the one teasing you and you should be the one getting all embarrassed about it! So not fair!”

“Aw, poor thing,” Eddie rested his face on his hand, leaning in on the table, smiling all smug. “Look at you, all cute and red.”

“You’re confusing me,” Richie laughed too, rubbing his eyes and trying to ignore how his heart wanted to get out of his chest.

“Oh, am I?” Eddie asked, an amused smile still on his face. Richie looked at him, a questioning look on his face.

Should he ask?

“Is this… Are you flirting with me?” Richie asked, and he knew it sounded casual, he intended it to sound casual, and he was very proud of how casual it sounded because he was _freaking out_.

“What?? No!” Eddie laughed, shaking his head and leaning back on his chair. “Come on, man.”

“Are you sure? Because I kinda feel like you want a piece of me, and I don’t blame you!” Richie joked, laughing too and raising his hands. “I mean. I know I’m hard to resist.”

“Oh, fuck you! You’re such an asshole,” Eddie shook his head, rubbing his face, still laughing.

“No, but honestly. I mean. You’re here, you don’t know anyone in the city but me, and I’m super awesome so if you met anyone else you’d be like ‘oh, but he’s not like Richie’ and I’d totally understand, like… meeting me has possibly ruined the rest of the guys for you, so.”

“You’d pity fuck me? That’s what you’re saying? That’s _so nice_ of you.”

“Not out of pity! I never said pity.”

“Yeah, right. Poor Eddie, he’s here all alone, he’d be for _three whole months_, he must be starving for some action,” Eddie mocked, and Richie laughed, shrugging.

“I mean. Three months is a lot of time…”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure my girlfriend would take care of that when I go back home.”

“What?” Richie laughed harder.

No, really. What?

“Yeah, I don’t think she would appreciate your generosity,” Eddie laughed too. Richie was still smiling, but the laugh was nowhere to be found. In fact, he was smiling just because his face had frozen.

“Wait, a girlfriend? You have a. Like. You mean a girl friend or like a…. a _girlfriend_?

“I mean there is a girl and I’m currently dating her, yes.”

“Nah,” Richie shook his head, scoffing a laugh. “Wait. No, you’re kidding me.”

“I’m not! Why would I…?” Eddie smile fell a little, twisting his mouth. “You weren’t like, serious, right? I mean, you don’t actually…”

“No! No, man. Totally joking, you know me,” Richie quickly brushed it off, swallowing the hard lump that had gotten stuck in his throat. “I just. I didn’t think you would date a _girl_.”

“Does everyone just assume I’m gay?” Eddie laughed, blinking fast and looking away. “Damn. No, I… Yeah, I have a girlfriend. Myra. She, uh… weird I’d never mentioned her. She’s… I mean, yeah. She’s the one who just called. She’s always calling. Most of the times I step out to pick up the phone it’s her.”

“Oh. _Oh_, weird. I thought it would be work,” Richie chuckled forcedly, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

“No, fuck that. I won’t pick up on my free time. They boss me around enough during my working hours. And speaking of, I would call it a night,” Eddie said, looking at his watch. “Some of us need to wake up early.”

“Sure, yeah. Gotta pay the bills,” Richie replied, feeling automatically stupid for it.

“Wanna have breakfast together? I need to visit this IT company, we’ve scheduled the visit at 09:30. We can meet around 08:00, maybe?” Eddie said, standing up and picking up his jacket. He stopped when he saw Richie wasn’t moving. “You’re not coming?”

“I was thinking maybe I’ll have the last one, you know?” Richie answered, looking at his drink and nodding. “But sure, let’s meet for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Eddie looked at him, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “Well. I mean… we can have the last one at my place, if you want.”

How much Richie would have love to hear that exact same sentence a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, no. Thanks but I was hoping maybe I’ll hang around and see if I get lucky, you know what I mean?” He lied. Good enough, though.

“Oh. Sure, yeah,” Eddie laughed, looking down at his fingers and then back at Richie. “I’m sure having that face helps a lot with that.”

“Was that sarcasm?” Richie asked, making a face.

“No! No, I mean. You’re on posters all over the city. Like, that helps. I guess.”

“Oh. Yeah. Everybody wants to fuck the clown,” Richie laughed.

He felt bad immediately after saying it, he felt bad for making Eddie feel bad. He knew Eddie didn’t mean it like that, and the underlying anger behind his laugh wasn’t directed at Eddie either, it was directed at himself. He was just that stupid sometimes.

“I didn’t…”

“It was a joke. Just a joke, Eds.” Richie smiled at him, as genuinely as he could. “I’m juzt jealouz, okay?” He joked, making a voice and pouting. “See you tomorrow.”

“Asshole,” Eddie laughed. “See you tomorrow.”

As he saw Eddie walking out the door Richie tried to put a name to what he was feeling. He wasn’t sure it existed, though. He knew it wasn’t betrayal, because Eddie hadn’t lied to him or broken a promise. It wasn’t jealousy either, he couldn’t be afraid of losing Eddie since he didn’t have Eddie in the first place. Envy could be a good guess, but then again, Richie didn’t think envy would bring such sadness upon himself, and most of all, above all things, above the pressure in his chest and the lump in his throat and the shivers down his spine, what he felt was sadness. It was like he was mourning, like he had really lost something.

“Hey, a shot of Cuervo, please?” he smiled at the bartender and looked around. Yeah, he should just go home and sleep.

*

Dial tone.

Dial tone.

Dial tone.

“Richie, it’s two in the fucking morning. What d―”

“Steeeeeve,” Richie called, lengthening the vowels as much as he could for no particular reason. Or maybe there was a reason.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes.” He was. He was drunk as fuck. “I am drunk because I am, also, very fucked. I think you need to know this, Steve. I’m fucked and I’m fucked because I didn’t listen to you or my heart, for the matter. I thought I was smarter than you and my heart, I thought I could just beat you up, both of you. Fucking heart and Steve, they have no idea. But oh boy, did you do.”

“What the fuck, Rich?” Steve asked. Fucking Steve, he had no idea. Poor Steve but mostly poor Richie. Poor, poor Richie. He put his phone on top of his face and let his arm rest back on the floor. He was too tired. Holding his phone was so annoying. Someone should invent something like a hands-free device for these situations.

“He has a girlfriend,” Richie slurred, eyes closed and nose pressed to the screen of his flip phone.

“Who?” Steve asked, like he didn’t know. Like he didn’t know shit, come on, Steve, fucking Steve, you know.

“Eddie. Edward. Edward Spaghedward has a girlfriend back in fucking Queens and I’m fucked up because you were right, Steeeve. Fucking Steve.”

“Hey!” Steve complained, but his voice sounded compassionate, almost pitiful. “I’m sorry, man.”

“No. No, you don’t understand. I mean, you do but you don’t,” Richie tried to explain, taking a deep breath and whispering at the phone. “I like him. Like, you know. Like, I want to blow him kind of like him. And also like, fucking cuddles and adopting a cat together or something.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, _shit_.” So eloquent, Steve. “And he was really flirting tonight, like for real, like I’m not making this up, he was… just. _Jesus_, he was hot and I was ready to make a move, I was ready to just say fuck it and kiss him and taking him back to my apartment and fuck the shit out of him, like really blow his brains out and he would be so amazed he would, like, quit his job and stay with me here. Like I’d be down for anything, you know? Like, he tells me he wants to be a trophy wife and just look pretty and spend my money and I’d be totally down for it. Although he wouldn’t do that because that guy is _fucking fire_, Steve, he can’t stay still and he. He talks. _Fast_. Like, how even…? Oh, shit, the things his mouth could _do_!”

“I get it, Rich. I met this guy once who―”

“No, you have no fucking idea. I was ready, okay? But I asked. ‘Cause I’m _polite_. I’m not a creep no matter how much you think I am, I’m not. I’m a genel… genmantl… gente… I’m polite, okay? So I asked. And the motherfucker laughed and said, ‘nah man, the fuck? I have a girlfriend back in fucking Queens and she’s so much better than you, like she can ride me for hours and I bet you would come in, like, five seconds’, which I would, okay? I would because I’m a human being and _he’s hot_. Fuck. But it’s still not fair.”

“Did he really say that?”

“Something like it,” Richie shrugged, rolling to his side, making his phone fall on the floor. “The thing is. He left. And I got drunk. And I got really sick and threw up. Like, a lot. Like I’m an empty vessel right now, the devil could come possess me and I wouldn’t even resist because I’m. I’m just a meat suit. I think I puked out all my internal organs. And that’s the reason I’m here. Lying on the bathroom floor. And I think I’ve got puke on my shirt.”

“Oh, man. That’s… Dude, that’s low. Like, I cannot think of anything more tragic than lying drunk on your bathroom floor.”

“Oh, no. No, you don’t get it. I’m not home,” Richie cleared up. “That’s why I called. I need you to pick me up. I’m still at the bar.”

“You’re lying on the bathroom floor of _a bar??”_ Steve asked. Richie just made a sound. “Oh, shit. Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

Don’t move, he said. Yeah, that was funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be mad


	5. It's (not) okay

“Richie? Hey, Richie. Wake up.”

_Richie_

“Uh?” He was awake. He was. He just couldn’t open his eyes, but he could see the light behind his eyelids.

“Rich, I need you to wake up, man,” the voice said. Steve. Steve’s voice.

“What’s… oh, fuck!” The moment he tried to open his eyes the sunlight felt like needles in his eyeballs, his head pounding like a motherfucker. “Curtains! The… Fuck, Steve, what time is it?”

Steve’s face was really close, his hands carefully tugging at the sheets and gently pushing Richie. His voice was low, like a whisper, but it still sounded agitated, hurried.

“It’s 08:40. Look, I’m sorry. You need to get up and―”

08:40, what the hell. Richie closed his eyes again and groaned. The memories from the night before began to come into place, every stupid thing he said, every stupid thing he did. Did he really make that much of a fool out of himself? He was glad he wasn’t overly famous, it was already embarrassing enough when only Steve knew about this.

“I’m so fucked up. Why did you let me do that? You fucking knew,” Richie rambled. His head was a mess, everything was spinning, and the only thing he knew was he was mad at Steve. He didn’t really need a reason for it. “You should’ve told me I’m fucking hideous and he wouldn’t even think of…”

“Richie. Rich, not now. I’m trying to tell you…”

“You think I’m hideous? Am I hideous for liking guys?”

“Come on, Richie, you’re not h―”

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe his brain was still trying to process what was going on, what happened the night before and why he was now being held by Steve, maybe he has never felt so heartbroken in his life and tried to blame everything else but his stupid luck, maybe he just needed some reassurance. Or maybe he was still a little bit drunk.

Whatever the case may be, the reality was Richie grabbed Steve by the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him, right on the mouth, closing his eyes and trying to feel something, a little spark lighting inside his chest, a shock of energy maybe, or some shiver down his spine. Steve’s lips were smooth, and warm, and Richie felt nothing.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t. Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, not his, not Steve’s, and Richie opened his eyes wide, breaking the kiss fast enough to see Eddie’s head disappearing past the doorframe.

Richie blinked one. Then twice. Then he looked at Steve.

“Am I hallucinating?” He asked, genuinely worried he was losing his mind. Steve closed his eyes and sighed, bringing a hand to his face.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. He’s here. Your phone was ringing nonstop so I picked up and it was him. He said he was worried something had happened to you, so I just gave him my address and… Well.”

He was there. Eddie was there, at Steve’s house.

Eddie had seen him kiss Steve.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Richie warned, sitting up and trying to breathe deeply. Steve reached under the bed and slid out a blue plastic bucket. There was already vomit in it. “Ew, Steve!”

“What? You want a new one, princess?” Steve complained, but he still pets Richie’s head, pushing his dirty hair out of his face. “Come on. You can do this. Go out there and face him. He brought you coffee.”

“Oh, shit,” Richie gagged just thinking about drinking anything with milk at the moment. “He’s a sweetheart,” he said, taking a few deep breaths before standing up, waiting for a second until the room stopped spinning. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t…” Richie rubbed his face. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.”

Richie didn’t know if he’d be able to talk about it ever, but he still thanked Steve before leaving the room. He walked through the corridor trying to think of something to say to Eddie, some excuse, some pretext, something to justify the way he was looking at the moment.

In the living room, Eddie was still standing up, looking at the wall, two coffees, one in each hand. He looked like he was thinking about something, like there was something going on in his head. Richie wished he was religious just so he could pray it wasn’t anything related to him.

“Hey. I’m… so sorry, Eddie, I totally…” Richie started talking, but the words got lost in his mind when Eddie moved to face him. He was so, so beautiful. He was wearing the same work suit Richie had seen him wear before, but now he wasn’t wearing his jacket, and his white shirt had the sleeves rolled up. His hair was disheveled, like he had run to the place. Eddie gave him a tiny smile.

“So it looks like you got lucky after all,” he said, and Richie closed his eyes, almost flinching, like he was just slapped.

“No, that’s. He’s,” he shook his head, chuckling and hoping he didn’t look as fucked up as he felt. “Steve is my best friend. I’ve known him since I started working at The Spot. Before that, actually, when my improv group… What I mean is there’s nothing… What you saw, that wasn’t.” Richie looked away, sighing. This wasn’t going well. “Look. Sorry I didn’t show up. I got… really hammered last night. Like, bad. It was bad. That’s why… I was actually thanking Steve for picking me up.” That was the best excuse he could come up at the moment. It wasn’t far from the truth. Eddie held up a hand, stopping Richie from talking any more.

“Hey. It’s okay, you don’t owe me an explanation, man,” he smiled, shaking his head. “It’s your life. You’re an adult. I just… I didn’t come here to scold you or anything. I was just worried. I left you there and you didn’t show up this morning, didn’t answer my texts, so… I’m a freak that way, you already know that. It’s the mom in me. My mom, actually. I get worried sick when I don’t know if someone I care for is okay. So I just wanted to check up on you. And you’re fine. So. Yeah, that’s it. I should probably go, because I still have a meeting. I’m supposed to be working right now, so. Yeah. Sorry I came here uninvited, actually. Shit. Tell your friend I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Fuck,” Eddie moved a few steps to the door, looking around, then at his hands. “Oh. And I brought you coffee. Tall latte. You always… uh. It must be cold by now, anyway,” he said, pushing the cup onto Richie’s hands. “So. See you around.”

“Eddie!” Richie called when Eddie moved to the door, ready to open it and leave. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, he didn’t know what to do. He was really sorry he missed breakfast and he was embarrassed too. He wanted to follow Eddie, to walk him to his car, to drive him if Eddie wanted to, but he also needed to apologize to Steve properly and he still felt like the organs inside his body weren’t arranged properly. So he just smiled guiltily and looked at the coffee in his hands. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Eddie gave him a quick smile before walking out of there.

Richie fell into the couch.

“Steve! The bucket, please!”

*

Richie had never gone through such an awful hangover. It took a while until he was able to drink water without throwing it up right away. He didn’t even try to drink the latte Eddie brought him, so the cup stayed there, on the counter, reminding Richie what an absolute fuck up he was. He was glad he didn’t need to work until the afternoon. Steve did have to leave for work earlier, so Richie was left alone at his house. He thought about going back to sleep, but his head wouldn’t let him rest, so he started to think about at what point exactly everything had gone to hell the previous night.

It seemed so stupid, such a childlike behavior. Eddie had a girlfriend, so what? Did he really need to do that to himself? To his liver? And who the fuck invented Tequila anyway? That dreadful liquid wouldn’t be inside his body ever again. He needed to compose himself. This wasn’t the end of the world. Eddie was special, yes, and Richie was starting to accept his feelings for him were maybe stronger than he thought, but he was not a creep and he didn’t want Eddie to feel uncomfortable. Right now what Richie most wanted was to never see Eddie again and heal, but that wouldn’t be fair. Eddie didn’t need to know what Richie was going through. They could just be friends.

Richie also needed to find the way to apologize to Steve and thank him for being a good friend, an actual angel, really. He covered his face with his hands when he remembered the kiss that morning. Of all of the bad decisions Richie had made in the last few hours, kissing Steve was probably the worst. Steve understood, of course, but still gave Richie a speech about how they were just friends and he could never see Richie that way. It was embarrassing, but Richie knew he deserved it.

He left Steve’s house when he felt like he could act like a human being again, calling a cab home so he could take a shower and change clothes before going to work. He thought about texting Eddie but he couldn’t think of what to say. Richie just wanted to apologize over and over again.

_“Should I text him?” _Richie texted Steve instead. He didn’t want to mess things up even more. Steve would know what to do.

_“Idk man.”_ That was the answer. Richie closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe Steve wasn’t so helpful after all.

Richie put on one of his nicest clothes so it would hide the awful performance he was about to make and drove to the theatre. He still felt like shit, he hadn’t eaten much just in case his stomach decided to turn on him. He felt proud of how real his act was, but throwing up on stage was a little too real for anybody.

“_You coming to the show? Laughs and second hand embarrassment guaranteed._” He finally texted Eddie. He waited for the response for about half an hour but it never came, so Richie turned off his phone and got ready to get on stage.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. He cracked a few jokes about being hungover in your late twenties and feeling like a total failure but at least he wasn’t a sleep-deprived divorcee father in his forties, like the previous comedian. He would rather do crack than hit rock bottom like that. It got a lot of laughs from the audience and a few dirty looks from his workmates. He apologized to Bill when he finished the show, but the guy was a good sport, he didn’t mind.

When Richie looked at his phone again he saw Eddie’s text message, a quick: _“impossible. Lot of work_,” followed by “_have fun and try not to be an asshole_.” Well, he managed to do one of those things.

So, Eddie wasn’t acting strange. He probably didn’t even care that much about what had happened. After all, Richie had just missed breakfast on a Wednesday morning, it wasn’t that big of a deal. His texts sounded fine, and they talked a little on the phone too, but even if everything seemed all right, they still hadn’t met again after that night at the bar. Eddie kept saying he had a lot of work and Richie wanted to believe him. There was no reason for Eddie to lie about it, unless he just decided he wanted nothing to do with a guy who gets hammered on a Tuesday night. That would be fair. Richie was glad it had happened at a bar and not a party, though. He suspected Eddie wouldn’t like that side of him either.

“Hey, wanna come to a party tomorrow night?” Yeah, that was Richie. When he was in a hole he just asked for a shovel to keep digging deeper.

“A party?” Eddie scoffed. “No, thanks. A Saturday party in LA sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“Oh, come on,” Richie laughed. “What do you think happens in parties here?”

“Well, let me think. There’s a lot of booze and drugs and the music is so loud you need to know sign language to communicate and it’s either really old songs or too new for you, and there’s a lot of people dancing, and they think they’re the shit but it’s just because they’re tripping on molly, they actually look ridiculous. You don’t know anybody and the people you know you wish you didn’t. And then you pay like 20 bucks for a watered down Gin-Tonic and you hope to get drunk enough to actually enjoy that hell, but of course you don’t get drunk on that shit, so you end up spending half of your weekly income trying to enjoy something you didn’t really like in the first place, but hey, it’s what everyone is doing, so you might as well do it too because you’re _cool_. So you end up developing a drinking problem but the cocaine balances it up, and you do that every weekend just to avoid thinking about how your life is really depressing and, most of the time, pointless. But whatever, you’ll live fast, die young, and actually won’t leave a beautiful corpse because drugs fuck you up hard, but you’d be so high you won’t notice,” Eddie said, all at once, no breathing. Richie almost regretted asking. On the other hand… “Close?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty spot on,” he admitted. “But hey, it’s fun!” Richie laughed and Eddie did too.

“Are you into those things?” Eddie asked, and for the first time in his life Richie wished his answer could be different. He made a face and shrugged, although Eddie couldn’t see him.

“I mean, not all the time. But you know,” he chuckled. It was the first time he felt judged for his partying habits, and not by Eddie, but by himself. “Partying a little too hard sometimes is not a crime. Or, well, it actually is, but you know. There are worst things in the world.”

“No, yeah, I don’t… I mean, I don’t mind. I don’t judge.” Eddie said. “I’m just not a fan of drugs. For me, I mean. I guess I’ve swallowed enough pills in my life to know I don’t like to have my brain chemically altered by anything if I can help it. I barely even drink, you know? Like, I mostly only drink when I go out with you,” he laughed.

“Sorry I’m such a bad influence,” Richie apologized with a smile on his face.

“You are,” Eddie agreed. “But a drink is all I can offer. I won’t do anything else. One of the perks of having a mom like mine is I actually learned a lot about how different chemicals affect your neurotransmitters, the changes they can make… It’s actually gross. So yeah, I won’t risk it. Not worth it. I like my brain the way it is,” he laughed. “Like, I’m short, I’m average looking, I don’t have a lot to offer. But my brain is fine, although I’m prone to panic attacks and maybe I’m a bit of a hypochondriac at times. But my brain is fine. It’s fine. Yeah. Fine.”

“You think you’re average looking?” Richie asked, and there were a lot of things he would like to mention about what Eddie had just said, but that statement was the one that caught his attention the most.

“Come on. I am. It’s okay, I don’t give a fuck.”

“You’re gorgeous, Eds,” Richie said, just in case Eddie really thought that.

“You keep calling me that, you know that’s not my name, right?” Was Eddie’s response. Richie wondered if Eddie just didn’t really care about his looks or if he was trying to change the subject. Anyway.

“Okay, Spagheddie. No parties. Got it. I’ll put your name on the list anyway, just in case you want to come by.”

“Richie…”

“You don’t need to come! Just know you can, if you want to.”

Eddie didn’t go. And that night, every time Richie took a sip of his watered down drink, he remembered Eddie’s rant about LA parties and thought about how right he really was. He leaned on the bar, looking around at the people laughing and dancing, the strobe lights making everything look better by making it hard to see. It made Richie think about things he had never cared to think about before. Parties were fun, right? Of course they were. But they were also dark, so you couldn’t see, they were also loud, so you couldn’t hear, and every drug was designed to turn you into something that wasn’t real. So what was fun, then? If your senses are numb and your body is being controlled by a substance instead of yourself, is it _you_ who’s having fun? Richie went home early and fell asleep watching a rerun of Five Easy Pieces on TV.

*

Mondays were Richie’s day off, and it was fine since Saturdays and Sundays were usually the worst. No shows on Mondays, which meant Richie generally just stayed in bed until noon, grabbed a snack and watched a movie, maybe hang out with the rest of the crew if they were in the mood or perhaps just Steve and a few more guys from tech. That Monday he was hoping to see Eddie again, though. So, everything he said about feeling better if he never saw Eddie again? Total bullshit. Thank God he didn’t do anything stupid (apart from the obvious) because now he really understood that having Eddie in his life, being his friend, was one of the best things that has ever happened to him. Eddie made him see the good things in life, Eddie made him enjoy the little things, Eddie made him a better person.

“Is this because you didn’t end up tripping your balls off last Saturday?” Steve asked. “You know that doesn’t make you any better, right? You’re still a mess.”

“I’m on the right track, Steve. Don’t fuck with my vibes.”

“You’ve only known that guy for like a month. First you wanted to annoy him. Then you wanted to fuck him. And now you act like he’s the new messiah or something. Are you okay?”

“But he kinda is,” Richie said, not paying attention to Steve’s last question. “Maybe that’s what that weird feeling was about. Maybe he’s my Lord and Savior,” he said solemnly, making Steve roll his eyes. “I mean, I’d totally get on my knees for―”

“Just shut up, Richie.”

Eddie was still working nonstop and, really, Richie didn’t want to interrupt or bother him, but when Eddie told him he could come by and hang out in his room for a while, Richie said yes, just yes, please and thank you. Eddie texted him the hotel address although Richie knew it already from that first time he picked Eddie up (and that wasn’t creepy at all, he was just good at memorizing things). Richie stopped at a bakery on his way there and bought some fresh baked croissants he knew Eddie would love. It was almost time for dinner, but who turns down a delicious treat like those regardless the time of the day?

“Shit, food, thanks.” A hand ripped the croissants bag from Richie’s own hands the moment he knocked at Eddie’s door.

“Eddie?” Richie pushed at the door and walked into the totally dark room except for the light coming from the screen of Eddie’s laptop. “Are you okay, man?” he asked, trying to get his eyes adjusted to so little light.

“Stressed,” was the only thing Eddie said, shoving a croissant in his mouth and eating it with no hands while he typed like crazy. He moaned when he swallowed the first bite, and it would have been a pretty hot sound if it wasn’t because Eddie looked like a fucking undead from the movie The Undead.

“You mind if I turn on the lights?” Richie asked and Eddie just made a sound that sounded more creature than human, but could be interpreted as ‘okay’.

Once the lights were on, Richie took a look around, sitting on the same couch Eddie was, but keeping the distance. Eddie’s eyes were so focused on the screen Richie doubted he even noticed. The room was okay, nothing too fancy, but not as crappy as Eddie made it sound the first time. It had a nice bed, a TV, a desk sitting under a big ass window, and the couch where they were sitting along with a glass coffee table full of empty coffee cups, where Eddie was currently working in a really uncomfortable position.

“When was the last time you ate?” Richie asked, watching Eddie devour the croissants. Eddie just shrugged, still clicking and typing like a maniac. “When was the last time you _slept?”_ He asked again, and Eddie shook his head.

“No time. Need to finish this.”

“Eddie…”

“I really need to finish this, Rich. Deadline is tomorrow and I’m fucked. Your boss is an asshole and sent me like 20 new sheets I need to count in for the report and I. Just. _God!_”

“Dude, stop it!” Richie moved to hold Eddie’s hand, but thought better of it at the last second and just held his shoulder. That managed to make Eddie pry his eyes off the screen and look at him. He looked awful, deep dark circles under his eyes, a washed-out face, his hair resembled of a bird’s nest, and he was wearing a button-up shirt and pajama pants. “Hey. I’m gonna call for room service. We’re gonna have dinner. You need a break, Eddie.”

“Richie, I just told you I can’t―”

“Eddie!” Richie called firmly. It made Eddie open his eyes wide and snap out of his state, blinking and looking at Richie like he just realized he was there. “A break. Now, buddy. Get back to it later, but I won’t let you keep doing this now.”

“Okay,” Eddie looked down, frowning and nodding, internalizing Richie’s words. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right.”

Richie looked around for the hotel room telephone, taking it and looking through the hotel service menu to see what kind of meals they could order. There weren’t many options, and they didn’t sound appealing either. Richie wondered if he could order take out somewhere else and they could deliver it there. When he looked back at Eddie to ask him what he would like to eat, Richie saw him slowly sinking in the couch, his body getting smaller as he curved into a fetal position. It was like the moment he had taken his attention off his work, his whole body had switched off.

“Eddie? I’m ordering dinner,” Richie informed, but he kept his voice low and soft, a little smile opening on his face when he watched Eddie trying to keep his eyes open and failing, nodding like a little kid who claims he will stay up all night to meet Santa on Christmas night.

“Yeah. Food. Food is great. Food is awesome,” he said, moving to rest his head on the arm of the couch. “Just. Let me close my eyes just a minute. Real quick. Just…” Eddie curled up in a ball on the couch, his voice drifting away.

“Why don’t you just take a nap?” Richie asked, slightly amused, taking one of the sofa pillows and giving it to Eddie.

“That’s just ridiculous. Who the fuck takes a nap in the evening? That’s…” Eddie shook his head, but he grabbed the pillow anyway, putting it under his head and yawning. “That doesn’t make any sense, Richie.”

Richie didn’t say anything else, he just smiled fondly and waited for the total of two whole minutes until Eddie was snoring, mouth open and drool over the pillow. Then he took Eddie’s laptop and looked at the excel sheets and the word documents. There were like a million tabs open, work and not work related, and the final report was written in halves, like there was an introduction, and index and it went to hell from then on. It was like he had written the whole thing and then he decided to just delete chunks of it. There were paragraphs and a lot of space, then more paragraphs, more space, many unfinished sentences and some of them missing the beginning. Richie wondered if that chaos somehow resembled the inside of Eddie’s mind. It wouldn’t be a surprise, the guy talked like his head was full of words and he needed to get them out as soon as possible or his brain would explode.

“This shouldn’t be too difficult,” Richie said to himself, and then he put his mind to work.

It had been a long time since he did anything math related, but it was always his strong suit and it wasn’t like statistics and gaps and shit were really math. Writing the actual report seemed to be the most difficult thing to do, but of course Richie didn’t need to do a lot of searching before finding a folder with finished reports from other companies. He felt a little guilty reading them, knowing there was private information in there, but then again, who would be surprised to know the CEO of certain companies makes more money that all of his employees put together?

He tried to keep a cool head and not think about it too much, because capitalism, right? Better to just accept it and move on. He had spent a good part of his twenties talking about politics enough to know he didn’t want to get all riled up and end up waking Eddie up to rant about the working class self-emancipation and mass democracy. Now, close to his thirties, Richie had learned to accept that there were things he couldn’t change, not in the USA and not for a long time, at least. He was too lazy to go live somewhere else like Europe or some shit and he still thought the system would end up crumbling on its own anyway.

It didn’t surprise him to find out how much profit The Spot actually made compared to how little they invested in things like safety, infrastructure, or, you know, paying fucking bills. Richie wanted to laugh thinking about how Mr. Bartlow looked so worried about going bankrupt. Like, what if, I don’t know, you and the big guys had a reasonable salary and used the rest of the money to pay your debts? But of course, Richie knew a lot of people in LA who would rather see their business crumble and throw their workers out onto the streets rather than tighten their belts and lower their own salary. It didn’t matter to them if a company crashed, they could just build another one. They had the right family, the right friends, they wouldn’t suffer the consequences. But what about the employees? Well, fuck ‘em, am I right?

What did surprise him, though, was seeing the numbers in front of him proving the crazy amount of money his shows did actually make. Bartlow wasn’t lying when he said Richie was the reason the theatre was still running. Usually Richie didn’t care much about the money as long as he had enough to afford good food, a roof, and some parties here and there, but looking at the numbers really made him feel like he was being scammed. That maybe made Richie write not so objective things in the report, but he made sure to highlight everything he felt Eddie would want to take a look at and maybe change, although he was sure Eddie would read the whole thing through before turning anything in.

When Richie finally finished he realized it was later than he expected. Eddie’s job might not be difficult but it was tiring and time consuming (also boring as fuck, but Richie had stated that before). He saved every document a couple of times before putting the laptop back on the table, looking at Eddie still snoring like a water buffalo. Richie chuckled and his mind filled with witty remarks he could make about it. He didn’t say anything, though. He just nudged Eddie gently, trying to waking him up.

“Not sleeping!” Eddie yelped although he still hadn’t managed to open both eyes, moving his head until he found Richie’s face.

“It’s okay. You probably should go to bed, man. You still look exhausted,” Richie laughed, his hand still on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Can’t. Must finish…” Eddie blinked a few times, looking around. “Shit. What time is it? Shit, did I fall asleep??”

“It’s 11 p.m. You did. But it’s okay, I finished that thing for you,” Richie said, and Eddie looked at him like he had grown two heads.

“You, what?” Eddie moved up a little, looking at his laptop and moving it closer to him, opening it and clicking on every open tab with a confused face. “You did this? You did… my job?”

“I highlighted some things I think you should check out because I think I wasn’t entirely objective in the end, since I’m pretty sure my bosses are scamming me,” Richie pointed out.

“Oh, they totally are,” Eddie nodded without even looking at Richie, skimming the report. “Jesus, this is… not bad. What the fuck? You’re… smart. How did you do this?”

“I violated the confidentiality agreement in your company and looked through your other reports, the finished ones, and did the same you had done in those,” Richie confessed. “So it would be very nice of you if you showed your gratitude by not calling the police on me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Eddie said, but he closed the laptop and looked at Richie, the kind of look Richie had seen other times but never managed to decipher.

“What?”

“You did that… for me,” Eddie said, like he was still trying to understand. “You sat your ass through hours of the most boring shit according to you just so I could get some sleep?”

“To be fair, it was a little bit selfish on my own, because you looked like a fucking zombie and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t pretty,” Richie joked, making Eddie laugh a little. “In fact, you should keep sleeping. In a bed, preferably. I just woke you to tell you I was heading out. You still look awful.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Eddie agreed, standing up when Richie did too. “But I think you also did it because you’re a good friend.”

“Nothing you can prove.” Richie shrugged, smiling and walking towards the door. “Come by tomorrow for the show? I can sneak you in. Also, I may talk about how much you snore. And so loud, man. You sound like a Harley Davidson’s engine.”

“Shut up!” Eddie complained, but he laughed anyway. “I’ll come by in the morning to deliver the report and _maybe_ I’ll stay to watch you crash and burn on stage. Just if I’m in the mood for some second hand embarrassment.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Richie tilted an invisible hat, moving to the door. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah. And. By the way,” Eddie called, and Richie only had time to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s shaking hands before they were on both sides of his face, pulling him down, not too hard because Richie’s body just gladly obliged and moved like a puppet. He closed his eyes before he knew what was going to happen, and seconds after Eddie’s lips were pressing against his, soft and warm and not at all like what Steve’s had felt like.

“Uh,” Richie licked his lips when Eddie moved away, his face full blown red and determination in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Eddie said, looking at Richie with those big brown eyes. “That’s how you thank your friends, isn’t it?”

Oh. That.

“Sure,” Richie nodded, filling his lungs with a big gulp of air when his body reminded him he needed oxygen to live. “Uh.”

“We’re friends, right?” Eddie asked, tilting his head a little to the side. It reminded Richie of a puppy. A very steadfast puppy.

“Yeah. Of course,” Richie nodded again, this time quicker.

“Cool,” Eddie said, opening a big smile that went straight to Richie’s chest. “See you tomorrow.”

Richie walked out the door, down the stairs, and all the way to his car. He drove home, took off his shoes, poured himself a glass of bourbon and left the glass on the kitchen counter. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, and threw on some old pajama pants before getting in bed. He turned the TV on and looked at the screen, not really watching anything. His mouth was still tingly, he could still feel Eddie’s lips on his.

He licked his lips and closed his eyes. Pictures of Eddie, of him. Fantasies. Him standing next to Eddie’s door, his hands on Eddie’s face, his tongue pushing past Eddie’s lips, his body making Eddie walk back to the couch. Falling. Making out. Touching.

Fuck.

Richie opened his eyes.

Shit.

Not good.


	6. It's totally (not) okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is the reason I changed the rating from mature to explicit. I guess you could skip the part where it gets smutty but it's kinda important for the plot and why would you want to skip that part anyway? Also, I made [this thing](https://arrephoros.tumblr.com/post/189001372697/graywater-by-ragno-aka-me-summary-the-moment) on tumblr in case you guys want to see how I picture the guys in this fic (it's just a mood board, it's not fan art, I'm not good at that shit)

Richie was waiting backstage along with the other thirty-two people that were currently a part of the theatre crew. They were stuffed in the back because there was no room in the theatre big enough to accommodate them all, so they were sitting on ladders, boxes, props or, like Richie, on the floor, waiting for Mr. Bartlow to come and tell them whatever he had to announce to the workers. They had been waiting for almost half an hour, the kind of power-play Richie wasn’t in the mood to put up with, when their boss finally showed up. Right by his side was Eddie, and Richie’s mood immediately lightened up.

So that was it. Eddie’s work was done and luckily The Spot could still keep running by making some crucial changes. Bartlow started to explain things Richie didn’t care to hear. He was busy looking at Eddie, at his serious, professional face, at his sober suit, his well combed hair, his hands clutched behind his back, his sempiternal worried eyes. He looked older, well put together… fake. That Eddie was nothing like the Eddie he had to rip away from his laptop and force to get some sleep, that Eddie was nothing like the Eddie who always snapped back at Richie’s jokes, who teased him back, who even pushed to the limit. Right there, along with the whole crew and his boss, in front of that innocent and cautious Eddie, Richie was proud to be the only one who knew what was hidden underneath that façade.

Could people see himself smiling like an idiot? No, no way, he wasn’t really smiling, right? He was like, internally smiling. On the outside he looked like everyone else, just listening to whatever shit Bartlow was saying. And the rest were listening too, so in the case Richie was actually smiling like an idiot, people wouldn’t realize. They wouldn’t care.

“Dude, stop it,” Eddie mouthed directly at him and Richie opened his eyes wide. Oh, right, he forgot Eddie could see him too. Fuck. Eddie had caught him. So Richie did what he had to do: wink and blow a kiss at Eddie, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk. “Asshole,” Eddie mouthed again, moving his hand discreetly to give Richie the middle finger. He smiled, though. Eddie smiled and he had to look away to try to hide it. So, yeah, worth it.

The meeting was over and everybody went back to their places. Richie moved quickly towards Eddie, but he couldn’t help hearing Steve muttering ‘what a motherfucker’, some of the guys agreeing with him. Richie frowned but he didn’t stop to ask. He didn’t want to risk Eddie leaving without talking to him. Yes, he could just talk to him on the phone later or even come visit but whatever.

“So how’s the selling going?” He asked when he got near Eddie.

“Uh?”

“Are you not selling encyclopedias?” Richie asked with a stupid smile on his face. Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes so hard they almost went all the way back.

“You are _hilarious_,” Eddie deadpanned. “Do you get all your jokes from the 50s?”

“Yeah. They’re stored right near your suits.”

“They’re professional! And you don’t even―”

“They’re old!! And so fucking ugly.”

“Says the guy wearing boot-cut jeans and… what the fuck are those?? Moccasin slippers??”

“They’re comfy. That’s what they are. Not like your undertaker suit.”

“Oh, shut up!” Eddie burst out laughing, making Richie laugh too. “You’re impossible. Undertaker? Jesus…” He shook his head, looking at Richie like he was unbelievable. “You must be happy, then. You won’t have to see this suit ever again,” he made a pause and smile. “My job here is done, baby. I’m free!” Eddie raised his hands with a big smile, and Richie couldn’t help doing the same, celebrating.

“Yay! Free Eddie! Wait, free Eddie? I’ll take four,” he joked and Eddie punched him on his shoulder.

“You couldn’t handle just one, my friend,” Eddie teased. Richie bit his tongue not to say something really inappropriate at his workplace.

“So, you’re staying for the show?” Richie asked. He always asked.

“Can’t. Because, you know, that was a lie, I’m not free at all, I need to keep working on the other shit and… you know,” Eddie said, making a face.

“So that means this is a good bye? You have no reason to keep hanging out with me anymore…” Richie pouted and lowered his face, looking up at Eddie.

“I still want to know what’s the deal with you. What’s with the weird feeling.”

“I think you’re just in love with me,” Richie shrugged, and that made Eddie laugh.

“Yeah, that’d be it,” Eddie nodded, moving to leave but stopping himself. “Why don’t you call me when you’re done tonight?”

“Ooh, phone sex. Deal,” Richie joked. Eddie just smiled and shook his head, looking away. Richie didn’t. He kept looking at Eddie, waiting for his eyes to come back. There were moments like this, when just a tiny spark ignited the whole atmosphere, and the intimacy between the two of them was so thick Richie could taste it at the back of his tongue. He felt the static cling buzzing in his skin, so he put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, just to see if that would send him an electric shock. “Bye, Eds,” he said. No shock. Well, what if… “Oh, and by the way,” he moved his hand up, cupping Eddie’s face. The kiss was as quick as the first one, but softer, a caress of Richie’s lips on Eddie’s. “Thanks. You know, for saving the business.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure,” Eddie replied after a few seconds of silence, his voice a bit strangled. “Congratulations on keeping your job, I guess,” he chuckled, and only when Richie felt the vibrations in his hand he realized he was still cupping Eddie’s face. He put it away, missing the contact almost immediately. “Although I don’t know how good it could be keeping your job but losing your money.”

“Wait, what?”

“You didn’t hear a word your boss said, right?” Eddie laughed. “Man, they’re lowering all of your salaries.”

“What??” Richie opened his eyes, looking around to see Bartlow was nowhere to be found. “What a motherfucker!”

*

Richie was mad. It wasn’t fair. And he didn’t even care that much about his own situation, even though he knew it was mostly his show what kept the audience coming and consequently, the money. Even lowering his salary, Richie was still one of the better paid among the crew. The rest, however, were facing a real tragedy. The whole crew worked their asses off to put up a show every day, multiple times a day. Not only the rest of the actors but the technicians, the staff, the cleaning service. It was everybody’s work that made it possible for the theatre to keep running and it was so unfair they were suffering the consequences of poor management. And above all, Richie knew what was really going on, he had seen the documents, he knew the problems, he made half of the report, for God’s sake! And he knew Eddie suggested other ways to solve those problems, ways that didn’t involve taking it out on the workers.

“I don’t know, man. If this place isn’t really profitable they should just close it,” said Rob, one of the dressers.

“But it is profitable, it’s just not profitable for us,” Steve replied. “Do you really think they would keep this up if they had our salary? No way.”

“Well, at least we have a job. Yeah, we’ll get a lower salary but if this went down we wouldn’t have a salary at all,” Ally said. She was one of the electricians, and used to have a crush on Steve even after finding out Steve wasn’t that much into girls. Then she tried to get on with Richie. They made out at a party. Richie found later she was trying to make Steve jealous.

“Is it a salary, though?” Barb asked. “This is our job, they’re fucking profiting off our jobs, we are the reason this place makes money at all, and we’re the ones who take the blow? Fuck no, I work for a rightful payment. This new salary feels like charity.”

“I wonder how much they’re lowering _their_ salaries,” Steve added sarcastically.

“We could ask Richie, since he’s boning the guy they hired to do the risk report,” Ally said, and every head turned to look at a shocked Richie. “I totally saw you two kissing before, dude. And the way you guys look at each other? You’re not subtle.”

She still hated Richie because he threw up immediately after kissing her.

It wasn’t because of her, he was pretty drunk, although it’s true she tasted kind of funny.

Anyway.

“I’m not boning anyone,” Richie said, and he wished that was a lie. “We’re just friends.”

“Sure, because you kiss all your friends,” Ally replied, and before Richie could say anything, Steve stepped in.

“We actually do,” he said casually, and just like that he grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him on the lips, short and quick and meaningless. “Not a big deal, Ally. We kiss our friends.”

“Well, you don’t kiss me,” she laughed and played with her hair, totally eyeing up Steve in the most obvious way ever.

“That’s because we’re not friends,” Steve laughed too, and Richie gulped when he saw Ally’s eyes fill with rage.

“I’m going to be electrocuted the next time I step on stage, you know that, right?” Richie told Steve when they left the theatre. “I go up. I take the mike. Boom, dead. And it’s all because of you.”

“She deserved it for making things up…” Steve said, looking at Richie and raising a questioning eyebrow. “Because she’s making things up, right?”

“I’m not boning Eddie, come on, you’d know if I was,” Richie said, rubbing the back of his neck. He sighed. “I did kiss him, though. But it’s not what it looks like! I just… When he saw us he thought you and I were… and I didn’t want him to think we were, so I told him I was saying thank you, you know, for picking me up. So now he thinks I thank my friends with a kiss. And before you say anything else, he did kiss me first. It wasn’t like a creepy thing I did to make him believe we should kiss or anything. I’m not that twisted. Or clever, for that matter.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie…” Steve covered his face with his hand and looked at Richie like he had trouble understanding him, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m fine with us being friends. The kissing doesn’t really mean anything. It’s fun. It gets my heart pumping. But nothing else, I promise.” Richie looked at Steve, a soft smile opening on his face. “He told me to call him after the show.”

“_Richie_,” Steve sighed again. “Look, just… Don’t get hurt, okay? He has a girlfriend. He’ll go home in about two months. You can still stop. Do it before it’s too late.”

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” Richie smiled, leaning in and kissing Steve’s temple. “You’re too good of a friend for me. But I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Steve didn’t trust him, Richie knew that, and he didn’t really blame him but he wanted to believe. He needed to believe he was right and he wouldn’t get hurt, he wouldn’t get obsessed with Eddie, he wouldn’t make things what they weren’t. It was true the first kiss made him freak out, but Richie made himself stop and rationalize it. Friends kiss. Some friends do it. It wasn’t a big deal. They did it all the time in Europe, right? He could do it and nothing else needed to happen. Richie was fine. Everything was fine.

The first thing he did when he got home was take a shower. He didn’t call Eddie right away. After the shower, he put on some comfy clothes and lied on his bed, turning on the TV. Not calling Eddie either. He watched some weird cooking show and wondered if it was real or everything was staged. It did look real but can people be so dumb in real life? Only when the show was over, Richie picked up the phone and called Eddie. See? It wasn’t a big deal. He wasn’t addicted to Eddie or anything like it. They were friends, that was all.

“Thought you had forgotten about me,” Eddie pouted when he answered the phone. Richie felt his stomach churning.

“Couldn’t if I tried, sugar,” Richie made a voice. Voices made easier for him to say what was really on his mind. “Had a crew meeting after the show. I think it went kinda like what happened before the French revolution. We’re ordering a guillotine online. It’ll arrive next week,” he joked, making Eddie laugh. “And then I came home and had a shower because you wouldn’t like talking to a dirty Richie, no way.”

“You do sweat a lot on stage. It’s weird, I mean. You’re just there. Like, you don’t even move at all,” Eddie said with a chuckle. Richie was ready to blame the spotlights, but Eddie kept talking. “You do smell good, though. Like, when you walk down stage you still smell good. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still disgusting, but… Yeah, dunno. I kinda like it.”

“Well, look at you, Edward Kaspbrak. Who would have thought you would be into sweaty, disgusting, Richie Trashmouth Tozier,” Richie laughed, rolling around in bed and burying his nose in his pillow. He didn’t smell anything. He wondered how it smelled to Eddie.

“I didn’t say I was into you, asshole. I’m just saying your body odor is not terrible,” Eddie laughed too.

“Do you want to lick my armpits? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Richie! Oh my God!”

“Do you like it hairy or shaved clean? I guess the hair holds the smell better, but you can get a better taste of the real substance if it’s shaved clean,” he continued, and he could hear Eddie gag on the other end of the line.

“I’m gonna be sick.” 

Richie decided not to make a joke about Eddie’s gagging and just changed the subject. They talked about the situation at The Spot for a while, although it was mostly Richie venting and Eddie either agreeing with him or just listening. It was one of the things Richie liked the most about Eddie, how he could just listen to him. Yes, Eddie would tell him to shut up like everyone else when Richie was saying something stupid but he’d never do that if Richie was talking about something important to him, even if it wasn’t that relevant for Eddie. He listened to Richie ramble until Richie would feel self-conscious and stopped himself, only for Eddie to tell him it was okay to keep talking, he didn’t mind. He enjoyed it.

“I know how it feels to think everybody is tired of your rants. I tend to ramble a lot, and I worry about things most people find stupid, but I can’t help it. And I know sometimes I come off as crazy, I just… I don’t know.”

“I think it’s cute,” Richie said, and he intended to make it sound like his usual teasing, but it came out honest. It wasn’t a lie, though. “In this business you meet a lot of people who only say what they think you wanna hear. They act 24/7. You feel real.”

“You do too. I mean, it feels natural to talk to you, or to listen to you. Like, I’m lying in bed talking to you and it feels like I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“Maybe we have, in like another life.”

“Do you believe in that shit?” Eddie asked, but it didn’t sound disrespectful, it sounded like he was really wondering it.

“I don’t know, do you?” Richie asked, but he didn’t give Eddie time to answer. “I know it sounds crazy, but isn’t this crazy too? Have you ever felt the same with anyone else?”

“No,” Eddie answered. “And the thing is… I don’t think I would forget you, you know? If we had met before, if we were close enough to feel so comfortable with each other, how the hell could we forget? But then again, if there’s no connection between us, why do we feel like this?”

“I don’t know, man, I feel like I know everything about you, but the weird feeling doesn’t go away or change at all,” Richie sighed, stating at the ceiling. “Your family, your friends, your college, your major, your job, I know everything about you! We’ve told each other everything. I know who you lost your virginity to. And still, nothing rings any bell,” he complained, making Eddie laugh.

“Not sure about the last one, though. I don’t think you know who I lost my virginity to,” Eddie replied, the smile still in his voice.

“Then tell me! What if that’s the thing? Maybe the same girl popped our cherry,” Richie joked, making Eddie laugh again. “Wait. Let me think. Did I ever fuck a Myra?”

“No, I don’t think that’s the case,” Eddie said, making a little pause. “She doesn’t… She actually wants to wait until marriage.”

“Wait for what?” Richie asked, taking a few seconds to understand. “Ooh… Wait, really? Do those kind of people still exist?”

“She’s a good catholic girl. You should know about that,” Eddie teased, but his voice sounded a bit conflicted.

“I’ve never been a good catholic boy in my life. I’ve never been a good anything, period.” Richie laughed, but something came to his head. “Wait a minute. But when I was joking about, you know, you not getting any in LA, you said your girlfriend would take care of it once you came back. Where you lying, Eduardo?”

“I hope I wasn’t,” Eddie said, and Richie could almost see him shrug. “I mean, we’ve done things. I wasn’t talking about actually fucking. There are a lot of other things to do.”

“I guess,” Richie said, thinking about it. Truth was sex could be pretty good without actually fucking, but Richie couldn’t imagine having a girlfriend and never… “Isn’t it hard, though? No pun intended. Like, you’ve been together for a few years now. Don’t you miss it?”´

Eddie stood in silence for a moment, and Richie considered maybe he was asking too much. It was something personal and Eddie seemed like a very private person. They had shared a lot already, though. But Richie could understand.

“Well… I mean, she’s the first girlfriend I’ve ever had, so…” Eddie cleared his throat. “Can’t miss it.”

Richie frowned.

No way.

“You’re a _virgin_,” he said. Not asked, but it wasn’t a statement either. It was more like…

WHAT.

“Virginity is a social construct,” Eddie immediately said and that was enough of an answer. Richie actually sat up on his bed because the subject was _that _important.

“Dude, you’ve never fucked anyone?” He asked that. He really asked that, and then automatically wanted to punch himself when he heard Eddie let out an annoyed groan on the other end of the line. “I mean. Sorry. I just… Sorry. You don’t look like the type. That’s all.”

“And what do I look like, asshole?”

_Very very fuckable, thank you very much._

Richie didn’t say that. Thank God.

“I don’t know, man. I’m sorry. I mean, it’s totally fine. I respect your decision. I just… you…” You flirt and tease like a motherfucker, what the hell. “I didn’t expect that.”

“It’s not _my_ decision,” Eddie groaned again, sighing. “She’s my girlfriend and she wants to wait, so we wait. I won’t pressure her into shit she’s not comfortable with. We’ve done other things and she doesn’t seem too comfortable with that either, so… I don’t even know how it would be if…”

“Uh,” Richie took a second to get his thoughts in order. This was nuts. “Do you mind if I ask you… like what things, have you done?” He asked, almost ready to hear Eddie scream at him about being a fucking pervert or a creep or both.

Eddie didn’t scream, though.

“We, uh. Like, handjobs,” he said.

Richie waited for something else, the usual, things you do when you cannot do the do. Hands, mouths, skin, dry humping like a bitch in heat. Yeah, Richie knew a lot about those. However, Eddie stopped there.

“What, just handjobs? No blowjobs? No dry humping?”

“Dry humping is ridiculous. And oral sex is actually dangerous. Like, do you know how much bacteria is in our mouths? And our genitalia? And mixing them both? It’s like having a time bomb in your junk.”

“Oh my god!” Richie laughed, falling back on the bed and bringing a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. “Eddie, I can’t believe you’ve never had your cock sucked. Can you at least jack off? You know it doesn’t make your hands hairy, right?”

“I’m not stupid. I do jack off,” Eddie said, his voice a little embarrassed, just enough to make Richie enjoy the conversation even more. “Look, it’s not like I don’t want to, okay? But she’s not into it. She says it’s disgusting, and I kinda get it.”

“Eddie, I can’t believe you’re missing out on one of the best things in life. You need to get your cock sucked. Trust me. Let me talk to your girl. Or not, that would be creepy. But, honestly, getting your cock sucked? Glorious. Oral sex is fucking glorious. And not even just getting it, doing it too. I drool just thinking about it.”

“You drool thinking about sucking cock?” Eddie laughed, and Richie know it was meant to be a joke, but actually…

“Yeah…” Richie said, and although his voice was lower now, it felt like he was screaming it off his chest. It was the first time he said something like that out loud.

“Oh,” Eddie sounded a little taken aback. “Uh, you’ve done that?”

“I, um,” Richie licked his lips and swallowed, moving to his side and curling up on his bed, almost like he needed to hide to speak what he was about to. “I have. Just a couple of times. I must say I may not have been very good at it because I was drunk as fuck. But, I mean. Fuck, Eddie, it was awesome.”

“Oh, _come on_,” Eddie said. He just said that and, for the next few seconds all Richie could hear was Eddie’s breathing, now heavier. “Can you… Um. How did it feel?”

“I don’t think you want to hear that,” Richie chuckled. “But you like pussy, I can tell you how eating pussy feels like,” he offered.

“What did you like the most?” Eddie asked.

“Cock.” No doubt. Just saying the word send and electric wave down to his own. Eddie let out a breathing laugh.

“Then tell me about that.”

Richie considered it for a few seconds. Given what he felt for Eddie, talking to him about sucking cock didn’t seem the best way to help himself get over Eddie any time soon. There was a lot of probabilities where Richie just ended up giving himself a hard on, which would lead to a very awkward situation, since he knew he would try not to touch himself and fail, finally giving himself away and making Eddie hate him and curse him and his whole family and his future generation.

On the other hand, Eddie was asking, and this was probably the only time Richie could get away with talking dirty on the phone with the guy of his dreams so, what the hell.

“It’s like… hot on your tongue. Hard. Harder than it feels in your hand, but so fucking soft it makes it really easy to roll your lips along. You can feel it pulsing, the heartbeat right there under your tongue. You can feel them shake, too, every twitch, every moan. And let me tell you, Eds, there’s nothing better than having someone come apart with your mouth on him, knowing it’s you who makes him feel that way, who makes him moan that way, who makes him lose his mind.”

And there it was, a raging hard on tenting Richie’s pants. Good God, Eddie was right, he was so easy. Richie took a deep breath. Step one: get a hard on. Step two: try to ignore it.

“That’s… That sounds good,” Eddie said in a shaky voice, and Richie could actually hear him swallow. Hard.

Step three: fail step two.

Richie rolled around in bed, pressing his hips against the mattress and pushing his head into the pillow. He wouldn’t touch himself. Hands off, Tozier. Don’t even think about it.

“It is awesome, Eds, I promise. You should totally try it. I mean, talk to your girl. Even if she doesn’t do it to you, at least you could try to do it to her. She’s gonna love it, man. And you too. Trust me on this.”

“She doesn’t have a cock, though,” Eddie chuckled and it went straight down to Richie’s boner.

“She d― Jesus, Eddie,” Richie laughed too, high pitched and almost hysterical, pressing his fingers into his eyes and trying to push away the picture Eddie had painted in his mind. “You know what I mean. Whatever. Cock, pussy, it doesn’t matter. It feels good doing it, it feels good making other people feel good. And you would be great, I mean, you talk so fucking fast I bet you could do wonders with that mouth of yours.”

Richie snapped his eyes open, realizing what he just said. Did he just imply he had been thinking about Eddie’s mouth that way? Shit. _Shitshitshit_. His heart went crazy, jumping in his chest, and a cold sweat gathered on Richie’s skin.

There was silence at the other end of the line. Just a breathy laugh. That’s all. No words. Richie knew he should talk. Say something. Apologize. Say it was a joke. Laugh about it. Anything, Richie, come on!

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Eddie suddenly said, his voice lower, a bit hoarse, slower than before. Slower that Richie had ever heard him speak. “Maybe you should teach me.”

Richie shut his eyes closed and opened his mouth, his hand reaching down for his cock, squeezing it hard. What the fuck. He didn’t even do it on purpose, he just had to. Eddie’s words send an electric shock through Richie’s body, every hair standing on end, his head buzzing. What the fuck. Come on. What the actual…

“I’m afraid my knowledge of eating pussy is very limited,” Richie tried to laugh but it sounded more like a whine. Eddie did laugh, though.

“Teach me how to suck cock, then,” he said.

“Oh, come on!” Richie dropped the phone, shaking his head and bringing his hands to his face. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be real. When he picked up the phone again, Eddie was laughing. “Not funny, man.”

“But I mean it! I want to know. I’m curious.”

Richie wanted to cry.

“Eds, I… Every guy is different, you know? It’s not…”

“Okay,” Eddie sighed, making a pause and then adding. “Then teach me how you like it.”

You know the feeling when you’re trying to eat healthy and you’re really trying your best because you know you’re kind of out of shape, and also your stomach hurts all the time and your skin looks terrible lately, and you walk past every fucking bakery in the city ignoring those delicious pies and cakes, and you’re proud of yourself, you are. But you still walk past those places every day and they smell _so good_. And one day one of your friends tell you: ‘hey, they’re having a buy-one-get-one-for-free at his amazing bakery. Why don’t you come with me? My treat’. And you go there hoping you’d resist and just have black coffee, but everybody is happy eating cake and you’re so miserable. And for what? Aren’t you going to die anyway? Is this really worth it? So you say ‘fuck it’ and you eat the fucking cake. You eat both portions of cake, the one you buy and the one you get for free, and you actually bring a whole fucking cake home because that’s how hard you’re screaming ‘fuck it’ at the universe. You know that feeling?

Well, that’s nothing compared to what Richie felt right then.

“Okay,” he said, and his voice dropped eight notes just like his hand dropped back to his cock, this time consciously, this time properly.

“Okay,” Eddie said too, but his voice was different now, not so confident maybe, like he wasn’t really expecting that. “Like, now?”

“You wanted it, didn’t you?” Richie closed his eyes, breathing in and out. He had never done this before, but he wasn’t going to stop now. Eddie asked for it, he was going to give it to him. He rubbed his fingers along the length of his cock, shivering.

“I-Yeah,” Eddie said and Richie heard him swallow again. He smiled. This could end up so bad, but right now he didn’t give a fuck.

“Then I guess I’d suggest you start by teasing me. Little kisses on my inner thighs, a flick of your tongue. Easy. Warming up,” Richie said, touching himself softly with the tip of his fingers.

“Teasing you?” Eddie parroted, his voice a little husky, weary.

“You said you wanted me to teach you how I liked it,” Richie reminded him and Eddie made a constricted sound.

“Right. Yeah. Keep… Tell me.”

“Teasing,” Richie said again. “You’re already good at it, so I bet you wouldn’t have any problem with it. First your lips. Then your tongue. Then your teeth. Teasing until I’m hard and leaking and begging you to put your mouth on my cock. Only then would you do it, mouthing your way up to the head and wrapping your pretty lips around it.” He had to stop to catch his breath, trying to slow the pumps of his fist but his hips kept thrusting. He didn’t want to come. Not like this. Not yet. “I like it sloppy, so much spit my cock can slide easily down your throat. It sounds dirty, doesn’t it? Is that what you’re thinking? Well, it is dirty, Eddie. And I know you think you’d hate it, but you’d fucking love it.”

Eddie whined, a strangled, pitchy sound Richie found hotter than it probably was. He spat on his hand, fisting his cock harder, biting down a low moan. Eddie could hear him, there was no way Eddie didn’t know by now what was going on at the other end of the line, but Richie didn’t care. Fuck it. He was tired of pretending.

“That’s a little unrealistic, though. Don’t you think?” Eddie said whispered, trying to catch his breath. “Taking you… all the way down my throat.” He was so embarrassed to say those words, Richie could see it, he could _taste it_. And fuck, it tasted good. It encouraged Richie to take a step further. Just a little step.

“But you would make an effort, wouldn’t you? You’d try to take me as deep as you could until you choked, right baby?”

Eddie let out a breathy moan, and for the few seconds he stayed in silence Richie wondered if he hadn’t gone just too far. His cock twitched and he laughed at himself. Somewhere, deep down, he was a twisted motherfucker. And then Eddie’s voice reappeared, low and soft, careful, like he was sharing a secret. A confession.

“Yeah,” he said, sending Richie right to the edge.

“Eddie,” his voice was darker. Richie had never felt like this. It was like his whole body was on fire. “Would you do something for me?” he asked, not even thinking it, the train of thoughts going straight from the fabric to his mouth. Eddie didn’t answer, but those little noises he made encouraged Richie to just ask. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

Eddie’s breath sped up, Richie could hear it. The sound was heavier, elaborated, frantic and desperate, almost like a plea, almost like a prayer. Richie moaned just thinking about hearing Eddie’s voice begging, no matter what for. He dropped the phone near his ear and moved his free hand down, tugging at his balls, scraping his inner thighs with his nails, yearning for release and still wanting to wait a little bit more. Just a little.

“Are you getting off on this?” Richie whispered. Something inside him needed it. He needed the picture in his head to match the reality, he needed Eddie to be all hot and bothered just thinking about it, arching in bed trying to calm the ache in his skin, his cheeks flushed and his lips shiny around his own fingers, his other hand buried inside his pants. He needed Eddie to want this as much as him. “Does it turn you on? Thinking about me fucking your mouth?”

Richie shivered when he heard Eddie’s moan, loud and low and fucking filthy, but not as much as the wet sound he made right after popping his fingers out of his mouth, just before he could say, “Yes”, so sweet and shy and almost in pain Richie thought he could die right there.

“Don’t fight it, baby. Put them back in. Put your fingers back in your mouth. Think about how pretty they would look wrapped around my cock.” He was rambling. He was so out of it words just kept flowing out of his mouth and there was no way to stop them. His rhythm became erratic, his hips thrusting and his fist pumping faster, faster, faster. “I’m gonna come so hard, Eddie.”

“Would you do it in my mouth?” Eddie asked, sweet and almost innocent. Richie came immediately, shutting his eyes and grinding his teeth, seeing starts and lights under his eyelids, feeling his skin get goosebumps. He grabbed the phone wishing it could be Eddie, licking his lips wishing he could take Eddie’s head and crash their mouths together, tasting him right now, right in this state.

“You’d like that, don’t you? You’re so fucking pure, clean, spotless. You’ve always been a good boy, and you’re so ready for me to get you dirty. Good boy Eddie Kaspbrak wants to get ravished, wants me to fuck his mouth, make him sweat, lick him open and fuck him hard until he’s just a mess.”

Eddie came, right then and there. Richie couldn’t see it, Richie couldn’t even hear it, but he knew, he fucking knew, and with his eyes closed he could almost feel like he was right there in Eddie’s room, watching him deal with the mess they had just created. And fuck him if that wasn’t even better than his own orgasm.

“Richie…” Eddie’s voice sounded exhausted, his breath trying to get back to normal.

“So it was phone sex after all,” Richie joked, because of course he couldn’t deal with what just had happened in a mature or even normal way. He waited for Eddie to laugh, but his laugh never came. There was a sigh instead.

“Richie, I…” Eddie tried, but it was like his words refused to leave his throat.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Richie asked. “Eddie. Are you―”

“I think this was a mistake.”

Richie breathed in.

Silence.

Richie breathed out.

Okay.

“I…” Richie licked his lips. What are you supposed to say to something like that. “I don’t― It wasn’t… I’m. There’s nothing wrong with this, Eddie. This wasn’t―”

“It was wrong. Shit. I just. I shouldn’t… Fuck. I need to go.”

“Hey! No, hey, Eddie, listen. Hey. I’m sorry,” Richie tried, not even sure what he was sorry for but knowing he was. He really was.

“I need to go, Richie.”

“Eddie!”

And just like that, the line was dead.


	7. It can happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is killing meeee! I wish I could just write fics and watch movies lol (also, did you guys see the behind the scenes from IT 2?? KILL ME). Anyway, real life sucks but at least we've got fiction, right? I'm so happy you guys are liking the story so far, and I was wondering something. I started this fic thinking about making it canon-compliant (it's in the tags), but I don't know now. How would you guys want it to end? Let me know in the comments!

“You knew this could happen,” Steve said. Richie was glad he didn’t say anything else.

Yes, Richie knew it could happen. He had been pushing his luck, thinking maybe asking for a little more, taking steps a little further, wouldn’t make a difference. In the back of his mind there was the actual possibility of everything going to hell, but he kept ignoring it. Text messages, late night calls, thank you kisses, not the kind of thing you do with just friends. He knew that, but somehow he convinced himself it was okay just so he could look convincing in front of Eddie. He made Eddie believe there was nothing to worry about and then he just…

What he hated the most was how he was unable to erase it from his memories, Eddie’s voice, every little sound he made, every time he said yes and sounded like he was confessing his sins. He hated how he couldn’t stop his hand from moving down his body every night, the irrational part of his brain taking control and repeating once and again that Eddie wanted it, he wanted it, he enjoyed it, he loved it.

Richie had tried to contact Eddie the day after it happened. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he wanted to make things right, no matter what he had to do. He was ready to do whatever Eddie would ask him to do, anything. Eddie didn’t pick up. Not the first time. Not the second time. Riche gave up after the third time. He didn’t want to look like a creep, not any more than he probably did already.

He was surprised to see how little it affected his performance. It almost seemed like he was a professional after all. People kept laughing during his show, like they didn’t really notice how Richie was just a shell of a human being, like he could really pretend there was something else inside him apart from regret.

“Come on, Rich. You’ve been down for three days now. You need to move on, man,” Steve said. “Why don’t we go out this weekend? We’ll get drunk and high and forget about everything else.”

“I’m not in the mood to party, Steve.” He wasn’t in the mood to do anything. The only thing Richie wanted to do was get done with his show so he could go back home and wallow in his misery.

“Okay. Listen,” Steve insisted, putting his hand on Richie’s shoulder. “There’s this new gay bar downtown. Me and some friends wanted to go give it a try. What I'm saying is you should come with us, have a drink or maybe two, and see for yourself there’s too many fish in the sea for you to be sulking over a guy you just met a month ago.”

Richie wanted to explain Eddie wasn’t just a guy he just met a month ago, but the truth was Steve was right. No matter what Richie felt with what he thought about him and Eddie sharing some kind of secret bond, the reality was that they just met a month ago and Richie managed to fuck everything up in that short among of time. So maybe he should really get over Eddie and just try to move on.

“I’ll think about it.”

Richie walked up on stage and did his thing. Cheering. Laughs. Jokes. Applause. Pause. Drink water. Repeat. One of the good outcomes of his fuck up was he couldn’t care less about working or preforming or any other shit like that, so no panic attacks or anxiety for Richie before coming up on stage. He appreciated it because the last thing he would like to deal with right now would be shaky legs and sweaty hands and a stomach ready to turn all the way over and make him throw up.

“Good job, man!”

“Great as usual, Rich!”

“Your phone has been ringing nonstop man, you need to control your fanbase.”

Richie didn’t even bother to fake a laugh at that, he just frowned thinking about what could have happened. He didn’t know a lot of people outside work, so his mind went automatically to his parents, wondering if something bad had happened and that was why they were calling Richie. He wasn’t ready for that. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. If something bad had happened to one of his parents, Richie would just…

His phone ringed again when he was looking through his stuff. Richie didn’t even glance at the caller ID, he just flipped the phone open and answered it immediately.

“Hey. Um. Sorry about… You’re done for the night, right? Like, can we talk?” The voice at the other end said and Richie took a few seconds to identify who he was talking to. His heartbeat sped up, beating so hard it almost felt like it would jump out Richie’s chest. He felt light headed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He got this. He's got it.

“We can talk,” Richie answered carefully, measuring every word. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Well, no. Not really. I don’t…” Eddie took a deep breath. “Can I come over tomorrow? I’ve been wanting to talk to you but work is getting more and more stressful and… Anyway, I’m free for the weekend, as you know, and I was wondering if I could come by your house tomorrow morning and we could… talk.”

“Anything you need, Eds,” Richie said, his voice still quiet, careful.

“Okay,” Eddie said, and then the line kept quiet. Richie almost thought Eddie had hung up when Eddie’s voice startled him. “Do you hate me?”

“What? No. No, of course I don’t hate you,” Richie answered immediately, confused by the question. “Why would I hate you?’”

“I don’t know, I just…” Eddie was struggling, Richie could feel it, and the only thing Richie hated was how he was useless in this situation. He wanted to help Eddie, to make him understand he did nothing wrong and nothing he could do would make Richie reject him in any way. He could have said that, but then again, he didn’t know if that’s what Eddie needed to hear, so he just stayed silent. “See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Eds.”

“Okay.”

Yeah. Okay.

*

Richie woke up at 06:00 a.m. to clean the whole apartment. He didn’t remember the last time he woke up that early. He remembered the last time he _went to bed_ at that time, but waking up? And on a Saturday morning! Damn, his dad would be proud. He thought about calling someone to do it, but his self-hatred forced him to just do it himself. He deserved the punishment of going through the days of dirty laundry and underwear under his bed. He did the whole apartment before going for his bedroom. Definitely not a place Eddie would step in. He did clean it, though, just to make time until Eddie texted him saying he was coming over. It felt good once he had finished cleaning and tidying up, like he had accomplished something. He didn’t feel like he had accomplished a lot lately.

He put on some nice clothes, then he took them off and put on some casual clothes. Then he tried making a pot of coffee and ended up spilling half of it on his casual clothes (pouring hot coffee on yourself, not a nice experience), so he screamed and cursed and took a shower while screaming and cursing and then put on pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt while he decided what clothes to put on. And that’s when the doorbell rang.

“Fuck,” Richie closed his eyes and sighed. Whatever. He squeezed his still damp hair with a hand towel trying to look a little more decent and put on his glasses before opening the door.

A very serious Eddie was waiting at the door, and his eyes opened wide and a warm color spread all over his cheeks just a second after moving his head up and looking at Richie. He looked tinier than Richie remembered. Maybe it was the way he was dressed, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, the most informal outfit Richie had seen him wearing (always a polo shirt or a button up). Or maybe it was those big brown doe eyes. He looked like a child, lost and confused.

“Uh. Bad time?” Eddie asked, maybe because Richie looked like he wasn’t expecting any visitors or maybe because Richie was still blocking the door with his body.

“No, come in. I just. I just got out of the shower, had a little accident with the coffee maker. You want a coffee?” Richie moved to let Eddie in. He looked around, cautious, moving always a step behind Richie.

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

Eddie took a seat and Richie went to the kitchen. He kept looking at Eddie from the distance. He looked different. He looked the way he did when he went to the theatre or when he talked to the people there. He looked like business Eddie, like formal Eddie, like the Eddie who kept a wall between him and the rest of the world. Richie wasn’t used to be at the other side of the wall. He didn’t like it.

“Here you are. I hope you like it,” Richie said, placing the cup of coffee in front of Eddie. Eddie just hummed, nodding and taking the cup in his hands, sipping at it. Nothing else. Richie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “So. You wanted to talk.”

“Yeah. I…” Eddie looked up but not at Richie. “Uh. I just realized I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh, true,” Richie agreed. “Do you want me to show you around?” He asked, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Someone comes to your house for the first time and you show them around, for some reason.

“No, I think I’m good,” Eddie said. So no showing around. Richie was glad he had poured a cup of coffee for himself too, because it was perfect to hide behind it. Also, he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up,” Eddie said suddenly. Richie almost choked on his coffee. So this was it. Straight to the point. No Vaseline.

“It’s okay, I didn’t―” _mind_. A lie. But Eddie didn’t have time for Richie’s lies.

“I needed to sort some things out. I needed time to think,” Eddie interrupted him. “And of course I needed to keep doing my job, so these days have been… not easy. But I wanted to talk. I did. And I don’t want you to hate me because I made a mistake. I know it was wrong, what happened. And I’m sorry. And… I just want to know if there’s any possibility to just… forget about it and be friends. Like before.”

It took Richie by surprise. This wasn’t what he was expecting. And he still didn’t understand why Eddie blamed himself. He’d get there, but first of all:

“We’re friends. That won’t change unless you want it to. You don’t need to worry about that, I don’t think less of you or anything, but we’re fine. We’re friends. And you don’t need to apologize,” he said, licking his lips and bracing for what he was about to say next. “And I don’t think we made a mistake.”

“Not you. I did,” Eddie stated, and for the first time, he looked at Richie in the eyes. “I have a girlfriend. I’m… I’m a good guy. I don’t even… I don’t like guys, okay? I don’t even know if I like girls! I don’t,” he threw his hands in the air, shaking his head. “I’m confused! I totally misunderstood the feelings I have for you and this _bond_ we share and I got carried away! And I fucked it up! But it got nothing to do with me liking you. Or guys.”

“Well, you may not like guys, but you certainly like cock,” Richie blurted out. He didn’t mean it. Or he did, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. He had no filter. And maybe he was a little hurt too. Or a lot. Well, dammit. “Maybe you should get a strap-on for Myra. It’s more sanitary than actual sex and maybe it’ll help her get less grossed out by sex and you could finally enjoy yourself.”

“Could you not? Please? Richie, this is serious.”

He couldn’t.

“I’m serious! You said it yourself, you don’t like guys, you’re definitely not _into me_, God forbid, so what would be better than strengthening your relationship with some good ol’ pegging? There are hypoallergenic silicone cocks, super clean, bacteria free,” Richie chuckled, or at least he did for the couple of seconds Eddie took to get up and clutch his chest, standing in front of Richie.

“Do you think this is funny?? I can’t sleep at night, I can’t answer Myra’s calls, I can’t do my job right and I can’t even breathe right now because I don’t know what’s wrong with me!!” Eddie screamed, his breath speeding up, gasping, as his face went redder. “I don’t know what this is, I don’t know why you feel like this inside me, I don’t know what’s going on and I just feel like there’s so much going on in my head my fucking skull is going to explode!” He was shaking, sweating, his breath catching as he choked on his words. He was crying. And Richie didn’t know what the fuck to do. This was his fault. “I can’t. I just can’t. I’m gonna have a fucking asthma attack, I…” he cried, bringing his hands to his throat, fighting to breathe.

Eddie’s knees hit the floor and Richie went down with him instantly, holding him and forcing his hands apart from his throat, making Eddie look at him, pressing their foreheads together.

“Hey. Hey. Listen to me, okay? It’s not an asthma attack. It’s a panic attack. I know a lot about those,” he said, pushing away the locks of hair stuck to Eddie’s forehead, touching Eddie’s cheek. “Deep breaths. Come on. Breathe with me. In and out, buddy,” Richie tried to help him, breathing deep and slow. Eddie tried to follow him, but his hands were desperately gripping the shoulders of Richie’s t-shirt.

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” Eddie shook his head.

“Of course you can, come on, baby, hold on to me,” Richie pulled at Eddie, holding him close to his chest, making Eddie hug him. “Breathe. Breathe, Eddie,” he insisted, and it seemed like being like that, chest to chest, Eddie managed to slowly follow Richie’s rhythm. Only then Richie allowed himself to relax, holding Eddie’s head, kissing his temple. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie nodded, but he kept hugging Richie closer, his face buried on Richie’s neck, little sobs still coming out of his mouth. Richie closed his eyes and hugged him too, feeling the heat irradiating from Eddie’s body, trying to calm him down with soothing moves of his hands on Eddie’s back.

“I’m such a mess,” Eddie said, finally moving away but not too far, his hands resting on Richie’s arms. “I feel awful about what happened, I can’t believe I did that to Myra, and I can’t believe I did that to you either, but I really…” He gritted his teeth, pressing his lips in a thin line. “I know it’s stupid and you don’t even know me, but you’re just… too important for me to lose you. I don’t want to lose you, Richie.”

“You’re not gonna lose me, Eds. I promise,” Richie assured him, holding Eddie’s face to make him look up. “Hey. We’re friends. Nothing will change that, okay? And, as far as I’m concerned, nothing happened. Okay? It’s all forgotten. I can pretend that night I just went to sleep and had a weird dream I won’t talk to anyone about. I can do that. I’m not as bad of an actor as you think I am,” he said, making Eddie giggle a little. Richie smiled. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, wiping the tears off his face with the back of his hand. “You have a nice apartment, by the way. Cleaner than I expected.”

That made Richie burst out laughing.

“Hey! You offend me. I’m super tidy,” he said, and Eddie made a face. “Okay, I cleaned the place up. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable here.”

“You did that, huh?” Eddie smiled, looking down and taking a deep breath. “Do you mind pointing me to the bathroom? I’d like to wash my face.”

Richie waited there, in the living room, waiting for Eddie to return. He sat on the couch where minutes ago he had watched Eddie become a nervous wreck in front of his eyes, he had seen the consequences of his jokes, his careless decisions, his selfishness. Eddie was a person, he had his own life, his own issues, he wasn’t just the object of Richie’s desire or even curiosity. He had to stop. Whatever it was he had been doing, lying to himself and pretending he wasn’t trying to get something else from Eddie, it had to stop. Eddie wanted his friendship and that’s what Eddie would get. Richie was man enough to handle it. No matter how many times the word ‘love’ had wanted to slip out while he was holding Eddie before.

What if he had fallen in love with Eddie? People fall in love every day. Not all of them were lucky enough to get those feelings returned, and that was okay. Richie wasn’t special. He could handle rejection like anyone else. From now on, he would treat Eddie like any other friend, so no more breakfast together, no more hanging out just the two of them. In fact, he had a great idea about that.

“I was thinking,” he said when Eddie returned, his eyes and cheeks still pink from crying, but a little smile on his face lightened it up. “Steve and some friends are going to this new bar tomorrow night. I could use some fresh air and I bet you could too. So, what do you say? Are you joining us?”

*

“You did WHAT?” Steve asked. Richie didn’t see how it was such a big deal.

“I told Eddie to join us. What’s the problem? We’re friends! And I know you’d like him if you knew him.”

“That’s not the problem, Richie! The problem is I’m almost literally dragging you out of your house, convincing you to stop moping around and go have fun so you can forget the guy you have a hard crush on and who you wronged somehow, because you still won’t tell me what the hell you did, and when you finally accept to do it, _you invite said guy to come along!! _Am I the only one here seeing the problem?”

“I know how it sounds. But, Steve. Hear me out. It’s perfect,” Richie tried again. “We go out as friends, we all have a nice time, there are more people, there’s no intimacy, no risk of… you know. And you said it’s a gay bar, right?” Richie asked, and he braced himself for what he was about to say next. “I’ll try to hook up with someone. Like. A guy. I’m going to get _intimate_ with a guy. And this time I won’t be wasted drunk.”

“That’s great!” Steve said. “Wait, _this time?”_

“It’s a long story, Steve.”

It turned out Steve had a lot of time. Richie thought coming clear and talking to Steve about those times when he had been so drunk he’d lost his inhibitions enough to allow himself to_ touch_ another guy would be more difficult. Maybe it was how he already had accepted what he felt for guys, for Eddie, but he found the conversation to be easier than he expected. Almost liberating.

“So you’re like a teenager now,” Steve said, walking to the bar. “You’ve only had like a couple of handjobs and blowjobs and you’ve sucked a couple of cocks. Now it’s time for an upgrade, man,” he said, smiling at Richie and opening the door of the bar.

There were guys everywhere. And not the kind of guys Richie was used to seeing at other places, definitely not the kind of guys Richie had seen at bars he used to go to. These guys were hot. Maybe it was the way they dressed or maybe it was the way they moved, maybe it was the light, the music, the atmosphere. Richie liked it.

And the place wasn’t like a regular bar either. It looked more like a mix of a club and a bar. You could sit at the bar and there were tables and seats around the place too, but there was also some kind of dancefloor and people were dancing and mostly having fun. Richie wondered if this was a particular thing or if gay bars were just more fun than the rest of the skeevy joints he knew.

“Guys! You came!” A bearded redhead said. Richie was pretty sure that was Kyle, the guy whom Steve was currently trying to get into the pants of.

“Wouldn’t miss it! This is my friend and coworker, the infamous Richie Trashmouth Tozier,” Steve introduced him, and that’s how Richie learned his face was more recognizable than he ever thought.

It turned out Steve's friends were kind of fans of Richie’s show, they liked his sense of humor, and even one of them told him if he came out publicly he’d become _such a gay icon_. Richie wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a gay icon, considering he still wasn’t sure if he was gay. Like, he did find guys hot, he was kind of very in love with one particular guy, but he still liked girls too. He liked them in a different way, but he liked them, he was into them, he wanted to fuck them too, or so he thought. He never felt pressured to sleep with girls, he just did it because he wanted to. He did feel pressured to not sleep with guys, though, and maybe that was the reason why being with a guy made Richie feel like he was somehow a different person.

He almost said all of that, but his mouth wasn’t feeling particularly chatty that night, at least not about his personal life and feelings. He just kept talking about work, telling jokes and making impressions because that was the easier thing, while checking his phone constantly. He had gave Eddie the directions and he had said he’d meet everybody there. Eddie had to work late that day, so he would take his time. Richie decided a drink wouldn’t hurt.

“So Steve here says you’ve had your heart broken recently,” Hugo said. He was a dirty blond Argentinian guy Steve knew from college. Richie gave Steve a dirty look. “You’ve come to the right place, honey. I can tell you there are a lot of guys here who would love to make you feel better.”

“Yeah, dude. You’re hot,” said Kyle.

“Am I?” Richie wasn’t so sure. He wondered if maybe Steve had told them too about his insecurities about his looks. “I mean, I’m like, gangly and awkward.”

“Well, yeah. A total twink. Maybe a bit tall for a twink, but your glasses and your hair? Yeah, you’re such a twink.”

“I’m a what?” Richie laughed, and the rest of the guys did too.

“You’re a pretty young thing, cute laugh, gorgeous eyes, nice mouth, killer jawline.”

“Young, skinny and lanky. A total twink.”

“I see,” Richie laughed, feeling a little self-conscious but also enjoying being the one receiving so many compliments for once in his life. Maybe his body type was more popular between guys than it was between girls. He felt his cell phone vibrate, and looked at it to see it was Eddie calling. Right when he looked up at the door, Eddie was coming into the bar. “What about that guy?” Richie asked the rest of the group, looking at Eddie. “What is he?”

Eddie looked lost, his eyes bigger than usual looking around with his phone pressed on his ear. He was wearing tight jeans, and even a tighter gray t-shirt, and when the hell did Eddie get so fit? Was he hiding that body all along? Richie took a big gulp of his drink. He had even changed his hair, for God’s sake. It didn’t look like he was ready to go to church, it looked casual, it looked like he had made an effort to make it look casual.

“Aw, that’s a pup!”

“A really fit pup…”

“So much to learn. Is he with you?” Mark asked him. Steve knew him from the gym. Mark was an instructor. It showed.

“Sorry, guys. He’s straight,” Richie said, and he laughed at the collective ‘ohhhh’. “Eddie!” He called, not bothering to pick up the phone, waving his hand in the air. “Here, man.”

“Dude, what the fuck, can’t you just pick―” Eddie walked towards them, looking around and pressing his lips together when he realized Richie wasn’t alone. “Oh. Hi. I’m Edward Kaspbrak? Eddie. Yeah. I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself, starting to shake hands.

“Yeah, guys. This is _Eddie,_” Steve said, making an inflection so everybody knew right away what Eddie really meant.

“Such a shame…” Mark whispered, close to Richie’s ear.

Such a shame, indeed.

*

The night went better than Richie expected. At first he wasn’t sure how Eddie would get along with the rest of the guys, he didn’t even know them that well, and he was an extrovert enough to enjoy any kind of social situation, but he knew Eddie wasn’t like that. Eddie was timid, reluctant, and Richie had never seen him drink anything that wasn’t a beer because, as much as Eddie said he wasn’t that much into alcohol, Richie knew he was also found bar glasses too disgusting to think about putting his mouth on them. That was actually the first thing that surprised Richie, to see Eddie drink an actual drink from a glass. He cleaned the brim with a paper napkin before putting his mouth on it, but it was a start.

He immediately clicked with Kyle too. Apparently they both liked to watch medical shows and discuss the grossest things related to diseases and viruses and fucking flesh-eating bacteria. Richie felt sorry for Steve, but he really liked seeing Eddie feel so comfortable and natural talking about his interests with other people. It made Richie start to think that maybe he didn’t need to have Eddie in a romantic way. He was just happy seeing Eddie happy.

“Ready to hit the floor?” Mark asked suddenly, standing up and offering Richie a hand. Richie blinked in confusion for a second before shaking his head.

“Oh, no way. No, man. I’m not dancing.”

“Come on! You can’t expect to find a man sitting on your ass all night, come on. I know you can move those hips,” Mark insisted. Richie laughed harder, looking around for some support.

“I can’t wait to see that,” Eddie said in a mockery tone.

“I can dance, you know?” Richie replied, feeling a little offended.

“I bet you do,” Eddie laughed. Oh, so that was it, then. Richie grabbed Mark’s hand and the rest of the guys applauded when he stood up.

“Prepare to be blown away, sweetheart,” Richie said, and the guys cheered when he headed to the dance floor.

He wasn’t bluffing. Richie was good at dancing. Maybe he didn’t look like it, but that was something that always came natural to him, knowing how to move his body along with the music. He loved music. He even thought about being a DJ for some time. So it didn’t matter what genre you would throw at him, Richie could rock it. He wasn’t an expert, of course, but he looked good, and he knew it.

“Shit, you really are good at this,” Mark said, sounding surprised and getting closer to Richie. There were a lot of people on the dance floor, but Richie knew that was not the reason. He didn’t mind, though. It was fun. He was having fun. It was the first time in a long time.

“One of my many hidden talents,” Richie joked, getting closer to Mark so he could hear him better, but also because he felt confident enough just to do it.

They danced for a while, feeling the music beat in the skin, the sweat gathering under the clothes, and the smile that never left Richie’s lips. They moved closer, then drifted apart. It was like a game they both clearly enjoyed playing. The music changed and Mark put his hands on Richie’s hips, their chests touching when he spoke at Richie’s ear.

“It’s not worth it,” Mark said, and that was the last thing Richie expected to hear. Mark leaned back for a second, giving Richie a meaningful look before leaning back in. “Your friend. He’s cute, and your hips would probably make him reconsider all that being straight thing,” he joked, making Richie laugh. “But it’s not worth it, man. Straight guys are always trouble. And he already has a girlfriend,” he said, looking at Richie again. “When it comes to making a choice, we’re usually the ones who get left behind.”

“I know,” Richie nodded. He knew. “I know. I don’t… I just.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. I know how it is,” Mark gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m just saying there’s a lot of guys in the world and you could have a bunch of them get on their knees for you with just a snap of your fingers.”

“You’re just being nice,” Richie shook his hand, his cheeks feeling hot and red.

Not as hot and red as when Mark held his face, leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips. It felt nothing like kissing Steve. It felt nothing like kissing Eddie. It felt like Mark wanted him, and Richie was pretty sure he wanted Mark too.

“I could be nicer,” Mark offered, looking at Richie’s eyes. “I’ll go get another drink. You want something?”

“Uh. Yeah. Refill, please?” Richie mumbled like an idiot. Mark laughed and took Richie’s empty glass.

Richie turned around, not sure of what to do. It felt a little weird to just keep dancing on his own. He looked for Steve, just to make eye contact and be sure his security blanket was still there. He found him at the same table they were before, talking to Kyle. It seemed like Eddie had finally let them both have an intimate conversation. Eddie, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

“Hey!” Richie felt a poke on his shoulder and turned again to find Eddie smiling at him. Richie smiled too. For a second he was worried Eddie had just left. “You do know your moves. I’m impressed.”

“Told you, Edo. I’m a man of many talents,” Richie agreed. Eddie chuckled and got closer. Richie noticed how the drink in Eddie’s hand was a different color than the one he was drinking before.

“You should teach me,” Eddie said, poking at Richie’s tummy with his finger. Just hearing the words ‘teach me’ coming out of Eddie’s mouth sent shivers down Richie spine but also made him feel a cold sweat. No. He wasn’t going there. Not again.

“I’m afraid it’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, sorry,” Richie tried to play it down, ignoring Eddie’s pouty lips and the way they made Richie’s stomach churn.

“But you taught Mark, right?” Eddie asked, getting closer, his head tilting further to keep looking at Richie. “Fuck, you’re tall,” he said, looking around like he just realized that. Richie chuckled, pointing at Eddie’s drink.

“How many of these have you had?” He asked, amused by how Eddie twisted his lips to think of the answer, but also maybe a little worried about the actual answer.

“Just one of these. Hugo recommended it. But, like… maybe three of the other ones, the… uh, whatever the name was. This is tastier, though.” Eddie looked at his drink. Richie looked at Eddie.

“Maybe you should… you know, slow down a little,” Richie suggested. He was not the best person to give advice about not getting drunk, but he knew Eddie barely drank at all, so four drinks were _a lot_ for that tiny body.

“Not until you teach me,” Eddie insisted.

“Eds, I don’t thi―”

“You taught him. I mean, that’s why he kissed you. Right? Like. He was thanking you. For teaching him,” Eddie said, pursing his lips and wrinkling his nose. Richie felt like his mom had caught him jerking off, a red blush creeping up his cheeks. He tried to keep his cool, though. He couldn’t let Eddie know. It was stupid anyway. He could kiss guys, other guys, he didn’t need to hide it.

“There are a lot of other reason for people to kiss each other, Eds,” Richie said, leaning in and a bit down to speak at Eddie’s ear.

“Oh. So. Like, you…” Eddie blinked, and he seemed lost for words.

“Where’s my favorite twink?” Mark’s voice reached Richie’s ears before Eddie could finally form a complete sentence. He turned away, facing Mark with a huge smile and taking the drink he had bought for him. “Hey, Eds. Having fun?”

“That’s not my name,” Eddie quickly corrected him. “And yeah. So much fun. Super fucking fun, this place,” he nodded, gulping down the rest of his drink.

“Join us! Oh, man, I love this song!” Mark said, looking at Richie with a big smile and starting to jump at the rhythm of the music.

“No, I think I just…” Eddie looked at both of them, Mark totally lost in the music and Richie starting to follow him too. “Fuck it. Whatever,” he said, and just like that he disappeared into the crowd. Richie looked at him go, wondering if he should go after him. Mark touched his shoulder, making Richie look at him.

“Hey. Don’t. Just have fun, man. Tonight is your night.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, smiling. “It fucking is,” he said, more to himself than to Mark. Richie just started dancing again, forcing his worries out of his head.

Dancing was good for him. Music almost acted the same way the laughs did from his audience, being loud enough to not let him think about anything else. Although in that moment, while dancing and feeling a little tipsy and feeling Mark’s body heat radiating towards him, there was maybe one thought in Richie’s head.

It felt natural when Mark leaned in and kissed him again. It felt natural when Richie kissed him back, biting softly, trying to control how eager he really was. It felt natural to feel Mark’s chuckle against his lips right before he kissed Richie again, really going for it now, adding tongue and teeth and his whole fucking body into it. Richie didn’t even notice how they had drifted away from the crowd on the dance floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed when Mark pushed him against the bathroom door, kissing him like Richie was water and Mark has been wandering through the desert for weeks. Dancing his problems away was fine, but fucking his problems away? Genius.

Mark wasn’t taller than him, but he was around Richie’s height, which made his body fit perfectly when they brushed their hips together. Richie had felt a hard cock other times in his life, but he hadn't been this sober. It was different. It was intense. He could feel every touch, every word, every breath on his skin, the stubble on Mark’s face, the way he smelled, how he was eager to touch Richie and Richie was eager to be touched.

“I want to suck your cock,” Mark said, and Richie only managed to babble in agreement before Mark’s knees hit the floor, starting to fumble with Richie’s belt buckle.

A loud bang on the door startled them, but after a second of pause, Mark managed to unbutton Richie’s pants, pressing his nose to the outline of Richie’s hard cock.

“Oh my God,” Richie groaned. He needed to get off. He needed it _now_.

The banging on the door came back, this time louder and more desperate. Mark rolled his eyes.

“We’re fucking busy here!” He yelled, but he didn’t have time to go back to said business when the banging returned, hard and fast and with no signs of stopping. “What the fuck?”

Mark got up, unlocked the door and it immediately flew open, the person banging at it running into the bathroom and getting their head into the nearest toilet, puking their insides out. It took Richie a couple of seconds, probably because most of his blood was not in the right places, to realize that person was Eddie.

“Oh, shit,” Richie cursed, moving immediately to kneel by Eddie’s side, holding his head and petting his back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Let it all out. It’s over,” he said, hearing Eddie throw up every bit of alcohol that had gone in his system.

“Sorry,” Eddie apologized when he finally moved, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at Richie and then at Mark. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, man. It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Richie brushed it off, helping Eddie get up and getting a hold of him to walk out of the bathroom. He looked back at Mark, who seemed kind of pissed but gave Richie an understanding nod. At the door there was Hugo, looking at them with a concerned face.

“I think he needs to go home,” he said, and Richie just nodded. Yeah, the party was over. Too many thrills for the night.

When they passed by Hugo, he leaned in, whispering something at Richie’s ear. Richie looked at Hugo and Hugo made a face. Eddie buried his face in Richie’s chest. Richie pulled out his phone and called a cab.

“I can’t go to my place,” Eddie said once they were in the car. Richie could still feel the buzzing in his ears due to the loud music and the contrast with the absolute silence. It smelled like puke and those clean car air fresheners some cabs have. Richie looked down at Eddie, soft and small and curved into a ball resting on Richie’s chest.

“Why is that?” Richie asked. Eddie didn’t meet his eyes, not even once.

“I didn’t give a notice to the hotel saying I’d be back after 12a.m., so… I can’t get in,” Eddie said in a really tired, maybe even remorseful voice.

“Well, Eds, you might want to check up on that memory of yours,” Richie joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Or were you expecting to go home with someone else?”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Eddie said, his voice not changing at all, not moving a muscle. “I guess I was expecting to go home with you.”


	8. It can be real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank you guys enough, for reading, for leaving kudos, for those amazing comments. This is one of the best fandoms ever. And of course, nothing would be possible without the lovely and amazing Serenity. Thank you for turning my mess into something readable. This chapter is maybe shorter than the previous ones, but it's warmer too, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Richie woke up early. He stretched and went to the bathroom, taking a piss, brushing his teeth and having a really long hot shower to unclench his sore muscles. He dried his hair with a towel and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, walking barefoot back to the living room. He folded the heavy blanket on the couch and took it back to where it belonged: the top shelf in his closet. He rarely used it, since it was never that cold in L.A. He closed the closet careful not to make a loud noise and turned around to look at his bed.

Eddie was still fast asleep, tangled in his sheets. The morning sunlight coming through the window hit Eddie’s face with a warm glow, showing his freckles, his soft expression, his ruffled hair. Richie opened the closet and got out an old shirt and pajama pants, leaving them folded on top of his bedside table. Eddie was sleeping just in his underwear, the rest of his clothes thrown along with Richie’s into the laundry basket. He’d need something to put on when he woke up. Richie shut the blinds and got out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He went to the kitchen next, making some coffee, breaking a couple of eggs and scrambling them along with some bacon he found in the fridge. He ate them on the kitchen counter, drinking his coffee and looking through the window. He sighed. What happened the previous night, everything that happened, kept playing in his head like a movie. Flashes of Mark’s smile, of Eddie’s eyes, of feet stumbling, keys opening doors, soft whispers, drunk confessions, hands taking clothes off, begging. Hugo’s words.

_He’s not straight, man. At all._

Richie had left his own bedroom that night after promising Eddie he’d be back, waited by the door until Eddie fell asleep, then picked up his heavy blanket from the top shelf and went to sleep on the couch. It was easier than he thought, walking away from an invitation he thought was everything he wanted. Eddie reaching for him, begging for him, pretty please, puppy eyes. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Eddie was drunk and he’d kill himself before touching him in that state.

He did the right thing, Richie knew that. But it wasn’t the only thing he needed to do, and to really make things right Richie knew he would have to face everything that happened the night before. Things that seem easy in the night don’t look the same in the morning light.

Richie finished his breakfast and put the dish in the dishwasher, moving back to the living room and sitting on the couch, turning on the TV just to have some background noise. His thoughts were louder.

He didn’t know what he was going to say. Even if he played a hundred of conversations in his head, there was no way to know what Eddie would say, if he would stand behind what he said last night or if he would deny it, if he’d want to figure out a way to make things work or if he’d want to just cut all ties with Richie to be sure nothing like that happened again. Fuck, he didn’t even know if Eddie would want to talk at all.

Richie turned the volume on the TV up. He needed to shut his head up for a while.

He was watching some daily news show, although he wasn’t paying too much attention, talking about Arnold Schwarzenegger running for governor or something equally stupid when he caught a glimpse of a tiny body in huge, baggy clothes, walking into the living room.

Richie chuckled in amusement, turning his whole body on the couch to look at Eddie.

“You want me to drop da beat, dawg?” Richie joked with half a smile. Eddie frowned, looking like he barely understood English. “You look like a 90’s rapper.”

“Not my fault you’re… like, _long_,” Eddie said, walking towards him, falling on the other couch and bringing his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees and rubbing one of his eyes.

“Long?” Richie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You know. Like. Limbs. Long legs. Long arms,” he said, proving his point by flopping the hem of the shirt sleeves, which were long enough to cover Eddie’s hands.

_What about my dick?_

Richie rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he really so unable to stop making jokes even for a second? This was serious. Richie wanted it to be serious. He wanted to talk to Eddie and set everything straight once and for all. He was not a fan of _talking_, mostly because he didn’t know how to do it, but the situation called for it and Richie was ready to go for it. He was an _adult_. He could do it.

“Coffee?” Richie asked, but he didn’t give Eddie time to answer before he stood up and walked to the kitchen, fixing a cup of coffee for Eddie and another one for him. He set the mugs on the kitchen counter and looked at them. Jesus, he was so not ready for this.

When he went back to the living room he offered the mug to Eddie, who took it in between his covered hands. He blew at it before taking a sip. He was so fucking cute Richie wanted to rip his eyes off. Richie sat on the other couch, his back resting on the armrest so he could face Eddie.

They both sipped at their coffees.

Yeah. Great conversation.

“I guess I should apologize for what I did yesterday,” Eddie finally said, looking at his mug, then up at Richie. “But the truth is I’m not sure of what I did. It must have been bad, because you slept on the couch,” he considered, making a face. “I mean, not that you should have slept in your bed with me. You should have slept in your bed and I should’ve taken the couch. Like, that’s what a good guest would have done. So at least I know I didn’t behave like a good guest because I let you sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, you insisted I took the bed,” Richie said, and watched Eddie’s cheeks get red, his face lowering even more. “Sorry, I… Look, I understand. We do stupid things when we’re drunk. Trust me. I know.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten drunk in the first place. I don’t drink. And I’m definitely not drinking again.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty common thought, too.”

Eddie sighed, putting his mug on the coffee table and looking at Richie.

“Tell me what happened. I need to know what I did, Richie,” Eddie asked, his voice soft but firm. “I know I fucked up. I _feel_ like a fuck up. But I don’t want to ignore if something happened last night, I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen because I don’t remember, I don’t want you to pretend it didn’t happen to protect me.”

“Okay,” Richie agreed. It was fair. He pressed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I remember getting there, having a nice time with your friends, I don’t remember their names except for Steve, but that’s nothing new, I’m not good with them. I talked a lot with this guy, the redhead.” Eddie explained. Richie murmured the name ‘Kyle’ and Eddie nodded. “Kyle. He was nice. Then you left, when the other guy took you to the dancefloor, and this guy, the Latino one, he said we should dance too. I wasn’t sure ‘cause I’m not good at it, but you know. You weren’t there and this guy told me Steve was into Kyle, so we decided to get them some space and just… I got another drink because I guessed that would loosen me up. Maybe a couple more. We danced, or he did. I just watched him and tried not to embarrass myself too much. We talked too, mostly about you, I think. You were dancing like five feet apart from us but you didn’t notice,” Eddie opened a sad smile and brought his kneed back to his chest, resting his chin on one of them. “I guess I got jealous, Like, you invited me but you weren’t paying attention to me at all, you just… left to go get some,” Eddie chuckled, rubbing his face with his hand. “So I walked up to you and said something stupid, probably. I don’t know, it didn’t get me what I wanted anyway, so I left and had another drink. And then I had shots with the other guy. Hugo! Yeah, that was his name. Then…” Eddie closed his eyes, trying to remember. “I don’t know, I can see him talking to me but I don’t know what he said. Then the next thing I know is you’re taking me home in a cab, and… I don’t remember coming in. I don’t remember taking my clothes off. I remember you saying my name and telling me to wait. And yeah. That’s pretty much it.”

“Okay,” Richie nodded, drinking the rest of his coffee and wishing it was something stronger, like he hadn’t learned his lesson yet. “Okay, I can help you fill in the blanks.” He could. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could. Richie took a deep breath. Now or never, Richard. “You came into the bathroom when Mark and I were making out and you threw up. You looked like shit, so I called a cab and took you home. I was going to take you to your place but you said you couldn’t go, so… Then we arrived and…”

Richie closed his eyes. The flashes came back to his mind, Eddie’s fingers in his hair, Eddie’s body arching whenever Richie touched him, Eddie’s voice begging.

_Richie, please_.

“Richie, please,” Eddie said and Richie felt his skin crawl. “Tell me.”

“You tried to kiss me. You asked… what did Mark have that you didn’t. I said you needed to sleep and you asked me to help you take your clothes off, so I did. You begged me to touch you, to kiss you, to get in bed with you. You wouldn’t take a no for an answer,” Richie laughed awkwardly, clearing his throat and looking away. “So I told you I needed a minute to get ready, and I went to the bathroom. I waited there until you fell asleep, approximately two minutes later. Then I came here to sleep. Not the first time I crash on the couch, so no big deal.”

No big deal. Maybe sleeping on the couch wasn’t a big deal. The rest, though… Eddie’s face was completely red, from chin to forehead, including his ears. He wasn’t looking at Richie. He had stopped looking the moment Richie started talking and never looked back. The silence fell heavy between them, and for the first time in his life, Richie didn’t know what else to say.

“I…” Eddie started, but he stopped. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything else. Then he started again. “I’m sorry, Rich,” he said, sounding like he really regretted what he did. “I… These days have been difficult. I was clearly confused about what happened the last time, I wasn’t talking to you and I wasn’t picking up Myra’s calls, and I knew she was mad because she wouldn’t stop calling, so I focused on my work but that only got me more stressed out. So I called her and told her I needed some time to think, and she cried and said I was an awful person and my mom was right about me only caring about myself and… and I thought maybe going out and having a drink would maybe make me forget everything for a while, you know? And I guess I kinda needed you too, to be with me. Because, you know, you’re my only friend here, so I… I suppose I saw you with Mark and I was so drunk I thought the only way to get your attention was… was acting that way. But. Rich, you’re my best friend. I promise I didn’t mean―”

“I would have done it,” Richie cut him. He was done with that bullshit. He was done with Eddie’s excuses. If he was the one who had to come clear first, then fuck it, he would, but he couldn’t handle the situation anymore. “Everything you asked for last night, I would have done it. I would have kissed you. And touched you. And gotten into bed with you. And you know what? I would have done so much more, Eddie, because I can’t sleep since I heard you moan my name and I won’t stop until I find the way to make you do it again. And the only reason I didn’t do it was because you were drunk, and I don’t want any of that with a drunk Eddie. I want it with you.”

There it was. It had been said. Richie felt the pressure get lifted from his chest.

Eddie looked up.

The pressure came back.

“Richie, I…” He blinked a couple of times, like he was trying to process everything. “You don’t even know who I am, Rich. You’re… I fucked up a lot already. I’m sure Myra hates me, she doesn’t wanna talk to me. And you will hate me too because I can’t… I’m a pussy, remember? I am. And I… I can’t… I couldn’t do that to Myra.”

And that’s when Richie snapped.

“Fuck Myra!” He screamed, making Eddie open his eyes wide. “What has she done for you? How is she any good for you, Eddie? She acts like your fucking mom!”

“She cares about me!!”

“Does she?? How exactly does she do that? Calling you every minute to control what you’re doing, who you’re with, when you go to sleep, when you fucking get up? She tells you how to fucking dress, she tells you what to eat, and you really believe she does all of this because she cares about you?? Just because she doesn’t make you swallow pills doesn’t mean she’s better than your mom, Eds. Maybe, huh, maybe caring about you means getting you junk food when you’ve been working your ass off so much you’ve forgotten to eat, maybe it means making you laugh instead of making you feel guilty about things you can’t control, or maybe it means holding your head while you puke your insides out and taking you home to sleep it off.”

“That’s not fair, Richie…” Eddie struggled to look at him, but Richie was done with the bullshit. He needed solutions.

“No, you’re not fair! We’ve got something! You know it too, you feel it too, whatever it is, it’s telling us to be together. And you fucking want it too, Eds, you do. But I can’t take this tug of war between us forever, and I won’t make you do anything. It needs to be your decision, Eddie. You either face this, face what’s going on between us… or we’re done.”

Richie felt his chest rising up and down, didn’t even notice how agitated he had gotten until he stopped talking. Eddie was looking at him with huge, shiny eyes, his expression looking like he’d just been slapped. He kind of had. Reality can hit harder than any fist. When Eddie finally looked down he nodded and sniffed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand and nodding again.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Okay, Rich. We’re done.”

This time it was Richie who felt like he had been slapped.

So that was it? Was that the end?

“Eddie…” Richie breathed out, startled. “Are you serious?”

“I just…” Eddie shook his head, looking down and fidgeting with his own fingers, pulling at them, twisting them. “I’m. I can’t, Rich, I…”

“Eds, please, just let me…” Richie reached out to touch him, but Eddie flinched.

“No. I. I think I’ll go. I’ll just. I’ll go. Yeah. That’s…” Eddie nodded, frantic, standing up and walking to the door. Richie closed his eyes.

Fuck.

“Eddie, wait,” Richie sighed, standing up too. “Dude, you’re not wearing any shoes. And you still have my pajamas on.”

Eddie just grunted and walked back to the living room, looking around before heading to the corridor towards Richie’s bedroom. Richie followed him like a shadow, not really sure of what he should say or do. Once Eddie got into the room, he started to look around for something, moving the sheets and covers, looking under the bed.

“I need my clothes.”

“They’re in the laundry basket. In the bathroom,” Richie pointed out, speaking again when Eddie moved to the bathroom. “Eddie, would you at least let me wash them first? It’ll take nothing to put them in the washer, then I’ll put them in the dryer and they’ll be ready in a second.”

“Dryer??” Eddie looked at him like Richie had grown two heads, then he went back to dive into Richie’s laundry basket to retrieve his clothes. He must really want those clothes if he was ignoring days of dirty socks and underwear touching his skin.

“I like that the clothes come out warm.”

Eddie just huffed, moving past Richie when he finally got his t-shirt and jeans, giving them a sniff and then closing his eyes, his face looking like he was contemplating suicide.

“Eddie, please. It won’t take longer than half an hour. You know you can’t handle wearing those clothes all the way to your place.”

“I’ll risk it. The sooner I get out of here, the better.”

Richie’s stomach fell to the ground. It was real. Eddie was leaving. This was the last time Richie would see him because he had given Eddie a choice and Eddie… Richie felt a knot in his throat, Mark word’s repeating inside his head. _When it comes to making a choice, we’re usually the ones who get left behind. _So that was it. Richie was being left behind. He was losing Eddie because he wasn’t able to keep his fucking mouth shut.

Eddie took off Richie’s old shirt and made a face when he grabbed his own, grimacing. Richie tried not to look, tried not to remember how Eddie begged to be touched the night before, how he grabbed Richie’s wrist and pulled at him, Richie’s hand traveling down Eddie’s chest, to his abs, seconds before he managed to make himself stop. It wasn’t even about sex anyway. Yeah, Eddie was hot, hotter than Richie expected, and just looking at him made Richie feel tight inside his jeans, but there was so much more.

Eddie had made himself a place inside Richie’s heart, a place that maybe always belonged to him. Touching Eddie, kissing Eddie, felt hot, but it also felt like fucking magic, like being high on the best drug, like all those stupid things people say you feel when you’re in love. Richie looked at Eddie, currently taking a deep breath before sticking his head in the dirty shirt. He took a deep breath too.

Would he be able to make himself stop now?

The moment Eddie stuck his head out through the collar of the shirt Richie held his face with both of his hands and kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Needy. But also demanding, like a dare, like he wanted Eddie to punch him in the face and tell him how wrong he was, how that would never happen, how he would never want him back, how it was all a mistake. And for as long as the kiss lasted, while Richie pushed past Eddie’s lips and bite him, licked his tongue, tasted him, he felt brave, he felt like he could deal with anything, face anything, overcome anything.

But kisses can’t last forever (oh, how Richie wished they could), so when it actually ended, when their mouth stopped touching and their skin too, Richie felt like a coward all over again. He took a step back, his legs shaking, his heart too.

“Fuck. Shit. Sorry.” He apologized. Eddie said nothing. He just looked at Richie, and no matter how hard he tried, Richie couldn’t read his face. “Eddie…” he called. No answer. Just the pressure of Eddie’s doe eyes on him, his lips just a little open, rhythmically breathing in and out. In. and out. Richie felt like he was going to cry. “Eddie please, just say something. Anything.”

He didn’t. Eddie didn’t say a thing.

He grabbed his t-shirt, pulling at it to take it off again, throwing it away and closing the distance between him and Richie, standing on his tiptoes and holding Richie’s face between his hands to yank him down and kiss him. For a split of second Richie didn’t know what to do, how to react, but his whole body decided it wouldn’t wait for Richie’s brain to work properly and acted on its own, wrapping his arms around Eddie and holding him closer.

It was Eddie who broke the kiss then, and rejection flashed through Richie’s brain during the second Eddie took to grab and pull at Richie’s t-shirt, making them both fall on the bed. Richie’s brain set on fire then, and when Eddie made himself comfortable on the bed and pulled Richie on top of him, Richie knew he would be operating on emergency mode from then on.

He leaned down to kiss Eddie again. He liked kisses. He always had. Kissing Eddie was something he had never experienced before, though, the feeling of their lips touching, the sweet of his tongue, the little bites he dared to take, the heat of the body under his. He kissed deeper and thrusted his hips, and when he swallowed Eddie’s moan he felt every inch of his skin getting goosebumps right away.

No.

No. He needed to remind himself. Eddie hadn’t done anything like that before. Eddie hadn’t done anything _at all_. Just because they were in bed didn’t mean they had to have sex. Just kissing was fine. Just kissing was…

“Richie,” Eddie gasped, moving his hands down Richie’s back, grabbing Richie’s ass shamelessly, digging his nails into the skin through the fabric, pushing him down.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Richie groaned, kissing Eddie’s neck just to hide his face. He hadn’t realized how hard he was. When his cock dug into Eddie’s hip, though, it was something hard to ignore (no pun intended, come on!). He thrusted again, just to feel Eddie’s legs wrapping around his. “Tell me you want this. I need to. I need to hear you, please, Eddie. Please.”

“I want you,” Eddie obliged, touching Richie’s cheek and looking at him like he had found something in Richie’s eyes. “I want you, Richie. I think I always have,” he smiled, biting the inside of his lips, making a worried face. “Are you sure you want me too?”

“Oh my fucking god!”

Richie just kissed him again_. _

_I’ll show you, Eds. I’ll show you how much I fucking want you._

It felt natural to just slide down, kissing every inch of skin he found under his lips, fingertips barely brushing, like he was afraid Eddie would break if he touched too hard. So he just kissed, at least at first, adding soft bites here and there, keeping in mind this was Eddie’s first time. Richie didn’t want to get too rough, but he wanted to make it count. When he kissed down Eddie’s navel, though, when he bit there too, his mouth closer to the waist of Eddie’s pajama pants, Eddie groaned, pushing his fingers through Richie’s hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling. It made Richie moan and look up, surprised. He was met with Eddie’s eyes, full blown dark with need, his chest rising up and down.

“Stop teasing,” Eddie said, and it didn’t sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a command. Maybe Richie felt his own cock twitch at the thought of Eddie bossing him around in bed, but he decided he wouldn’t pay too much attention into that. Not yet, at least. He wasn’t ready for that. “Do it.” Eddie’s voice was breathy but still firm enough to make Richie shiver.

And then Eddie pulled at Richie’s hair again, pushing him further down, arching his hips when Richie’s lips brushed his hard-on over the fabric of his clothes. Richie’s fingers sank into the flesh of Eddie’s hips. Fuck being careful.

To be fair, it wasn’t his intention to rip off his own pajama pants from Eddie, they were just old so the fabric gave up. Eddie found it funny or so it seemed, because he chuckled when Richie left crimson lines across his thighs, nails scraping down to make him open up his legs, make room for Richie between them. It made Richie crazy, how willingly Eddie just pushed him back down, his hands never abandoning Richie’s hair, taking control of Richie like it was the most natural thing to do.

Richie felt his mouth watering when he pressed his nose against Eddie’s hard-on, just a thin layer of cotton fabric keeping them both apart. He left wet spots on it, where he pressed his lips and tongue, mouthing at it before finally pushing the underwear down. He tried to focus, to forget about his own cock, raging hard, trapped in his jeans, not to listen to Eddie’s sweet moans and not to pay attention to the way he fucking rocked his hips slowly, smoothly, his hands on Richie’s hair keeping him in place so he could just _slide_ in and out of Richie’s mouth. Fuck. _Fuck_. Richie moved a hand down to his crotch, putting pressure in those exact places he knew would keep him from coming right then and there. Not a nice thing to come before the virgin guy you’re blowing for the first time.

But it was too much, Richie couldn’t handle it all. He could ignore the moans and the gasps, he could ignore the way his name spilled from Eddie’s lips, he could ignore how that motherfucker, that I’m-so-innocent-and-virgin-and-a-nice-guy son of a bitch was literally just fucking Richie’s mouth without a tiny bit of shame, but he couldn’t ignore the fingers scraping his scalp, the fists in his hair, the way Eddie still smelled a bit like him from wearing his clothes, or just how fucking good it felt to have him in his mouth, to taste him, to fucking having him pulsing against his tongue. Eddie. Fucking Eddie.

“Richie, I’m so close…” Eddie warned, his hips speeding up while he tried to pull at Richie’s hair to make him stop.

No fucking way.

He pushed down harder, joining his hand to his mouth to fist Eddie’s cock, working his wrist along with his tongue, using every trick in his book, doing everything he knew would get himself going and hoping it worked for Eddie too.

It did. Richie looked up just to see it (thank god his glasses managed to stay in place), to paint the picture so he could reproduce it in his mind forever. It was so fucking beautiful. Eddie was so beautiful. But nothing compared to the feeling of having Eddie come apart with Richie’s mouth on him, to feel him shake, to feel the goosebumps on his skin under Richie’s hands, to know it was him, this was because of him, he was the one making Eddie feel that way.

Eddie pulled Richie up, still using his hair like strings on a puppet. Saying Richie didn’t mind would be an understatement. Eddie looked like a mess, his hair sweaty and his cheeks red, his lips looking like he had been biting down moans all the time, so inviting. Richie thought maybe Eddie wouldn’t want to kiss him now, not after what he did, but that thought only lasted the time Eddie took to bring Richie down and kiss him himself, pushing past his lips and tasting him like it was the best thing he ever had. He reached down too, his hands moving between their bodies to press between Richie’s legs. Richie chuckled, lips still against lips.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said, and Eddie frowned, not really knowing what Richie meant. It was fair. Richie tried again. “You don’t need to. I mean. I already…”

“_Oh,_” Eddie opened his eyes in surprise, blinking a couple of times. “Is that possible?”

“I guess,” Richie laughed, feeling a little bit embarrassed but pleased enough with everything else to just lay beside Eddie, touching his face. Eddie moved his hands down, finally letting go of Richie’s hair. “So… verdict?” He asked, making Eddie laugh.

“I knew you’d be smug enough to ask how good it was,” he accused Richie, who shook his head immediately, laughing too.

“Oh, no. No smug at all. I really need to know. I mean, I haven’t done this in a while, and never on a bed, actually. I bet I’m awful at it, but I hope you didn’t notice. I’m glad you have nothing to compare.”

“Asshole,” Eddie made a face, punching lightly Richie’s chest. “I refuse.”

“You refuse to what?”

“I won’t tell you how _amazing_ you were, if that’s what you want to hear. You already know that. I don’t need to bust your ego any more.”

“So you think I’m amazing?” Richie raised his eyebrows, surprised and a bit amused at Eddie’s reaction.

“I didn’t―!”

“Amazing, huh?”

“It was a figure of speech! Oh my _god!_”

“So amazing,” Richie insisted, smiling when he leaned in and cupped Eddie’s face before kissing him again. He was a little nervous about it, to be quite honest, not entirely sure about what happened between them, what that meant, what Eddie wanted it to mean. Eddie kissed him back, though, so that was something Richie could work with. “You did make it sound like it was amazing,” he added when he broke the kiss, enjoying immensely the way Eddie’s eyes opened wide and his face got all red. “You were so loud, man, like ‘sending an apology letter to my neighbors’ loud.”

“Dude, shut up!”

“Done,” Richie said, kissing Eddie again.

It was his body, not his mind, pushing him to keep kissing Eddie, keep touching him, keep feeling him, like they needed to make up for longer than they actually knew each other. Every time they kissed Richie felt like he had been starving his whole life, only he didn’t know so until he tasted Eddie. It really felt like love, like how the movies tell you love feels and that Richie never thought was real. It was scary, but at the same time Richie knew it was something worth being scared of. Everything that came with it, it was worth it.

“I’m feeling a little sleepy,” Eddie said, yawning but still kissing back every time, their noses still touching, their hands on each other’s faces.

“Go back to sleep. You’ve had an awful week. You need to rest,” Richie suggested, smiling at Eddie when their kisses became a little lazier. He felt like a teenager, his heart melting and his bones shaking, his soul screaming not to fuck this up. This is your only chance to be happy, Richie. “I need to go to work in a couple of hours, but you can stay.” He said, licking his lips when he moved a bit away to look better at Eddie, his heart skipping a beat when the question popped into his mind. “You’re not gonna regret this later, right?”

Eddie looked at him too, his eyes fighting to stay open, his hand moving up from Richie’s cheek to his hair, playing with the locks. He smiled, pulling Richie slowly back towards him.

“Keep kissing me until I fall asleep.”

Richie couldn’t say no to that. So they kissed, slowly and softly, Richie’s fingers brushing lightly Eddie’s cheeks.

“Don’t regret this later, please,” Richie whispered, not even expecting an answer from Eddie, just hoping for the best. Eddie smiled though, eyes already closed.

“I love you.”

Richie’s eyes went wide, his body freezing as he watched Eddie drift away asleep, his breathing steady and, his chest rising slowly up and down. Richie, on the other hand, felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Inside his mind just four words, running over and over again. _I love you too_ _I love you too I love you too I love you too I love you too I love you too_. Richie was petrified. Could it be real? Could he really be in love with Eddie? Could Eddie be in love with him?? It’s true Richie had thought about the word love before, but hearing it out loud made it too real. Logic said it must be wrong, how can you love someone like that in such a short period of time. But then again, it felt _so right_.

He wanted to wake Eddie up, ask him if he really meant it, maybe even saying it back too, for fuck’s sake. But, at the same time, he didn’t want to risk it. What if he was just sleep talking? What if it was just the afterglow? He would feel like a fool. Richie took a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. No, he needed to stop being so negative. He had been walking on eggshells around Eddie, hiding behind jokes and apologizing or taking a step back every time something when a little too far. Only when he had come forward and taken matters into his own hands, acting on his feelings, had he seen some results. Maybe he had been the one confusing Eddie all along.

Richie looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Eddie. He would love to stay a little longer and just sleep together, but he needed to go to work and there were some things he wanted to sort out too. He touched Eddie’s cheek and kissed his forehead (_you’re such a creep, Richie_) before he slowly stepped out of bed, grabbing some clean clothes and the dirty ones, and getting out to take a shower in the main bathroom instead of the en-suite one so the noise wouldn’t wake Eddie up.

First thing he did was put the dirty clothes in the washing machine. He knew Eddie would want his clothes back once he woke up. It felt kind of stupid, taking a second shower in less than a few hours, but Richie really needed to. He turned the faucet on, peeling his jeans off and laughing because, what the fuck, Richie, honestly? Who the fuck creams his pants just blowing someone? What are you, sixteen? But the truth was just thinking about it made Richie feel week on the knees. If he were, in fact, sixteen, he would be getting hard all over again. Instead of that, the only thing Richie did was stupidly smile under the shower.

He moved to his office room when he was done, feeling glad he tidied it up days ago because he could find the post-it notes right away. He scribbled in a few of them, leaving them in strategic places for once Eddie woke up. The one that said _‘you need to press the start button hard’ _went on the remote control, another one on the fridge said _‘there’s chicken pot pie and leftover roast beef salad, but you can take anything that’s edible’_, then he went back to his bedroom, leaving another post-it on the bedside lamp: _‘make yourself at home, feel free to do anything you want. I’ll be back around 9:00 p.m. You don’t need to wait for me’_, and then another one, ‘_p.s: clean clothes in the dryer. Ahhhh clean clothes!_’

Richie checked out the washing machine, almost done, and waited for it to finish by sitting at the kitchen counter and maybe daydreaming a little about what Eddie would do when he woke up. Of course he knew Eddie would probably just leave immediately, but Richie couldn’t help to feel warm inside thinking about coming back home and finding Eddie there. Jesus, he was really in love with the guy, wasn’t he?

He got the clothes out of the washer and put them in the dryer, using the most delicate program just in case. He usually just set it to the fastest one, but he didn’t want to mess up Eddie’s clothes. Richie smiled to himself. He couldn't remember the last time he paid such attention to details. It felt nice having something to care about.

When Richie left the house with the biggest smile was on his face, feeling happy as fuck, he knew nothing, no matter what, could take that away from him.


	9. It will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I posted this a little later than usual, and also sorry for not replying to your comments, I promise I'll get to that as soon as I can. Adult life sucks and I had a crazy weekend but luckily there's a long weekend starting TODAY (YAY!) and I'm going to get the fuck out of my town for a few days (don't know where I'll go yet, it'll be a surprise), so that means I'll take a little more time to post the next chapter as well, but I really hope I make worth the while. Anyway, I'll shut up now. As always, you guys are amazing and the biggest thank you to Serenity for making this readable. Enjoy!

“He said ‘I love you’.” Steve repeated, but it sounded more like a question, and not even the kind of question you ask when you want to make sure you heard right. It was more like the kind of question you ask when your friend tells you they’ve been abducted by aliens. You love them, but no matter what they say, you won’t fucking believe them.

Richie should feel offended.

“He did,” he replied with probably the dumbest smile anybody had ever seen in the entire history of time. No place to feel offended when you feel so damn happy.

“But you said it first and it was something like, out of pity or…”

“No, I didn’t say it. He fell asleep right away,” Richie said. Steve frowned. “He was just looking at me with those sweet eyes of his, and we were kissing and he just said it,” he added. Well, maybe Eddie had already closed his eyes but whatever, it didn’t change a thing. Eddie loved him. That’s all that mattered.

“So. Let me get this straight.” Steve was having a hard time taking it. It was kind of funny. “You guys talk and Eddie is ready to run the fuck out of your house and dump your ass and go live happily ever after with his girlfriend, but then you kiss him and blow him and all of the sudden he drops the L-bomb? What fucking movie is this from? Because I haven’t even watched it yet and I already want my money back.”

“If you put it like that it sounds kind of unreal,” Richie chuckled, shrugging. “I don’t know what’s going on in his head, okay? If he’s half of how messed up I am it totally makes sense. Maybe he just needed a sign or something.”

“Dude, you sound like a fucking Disney movie,” Steve shook his head, still in disbelief. Then he looked at Richie, raising an eyebrow. “Could you be that good at sucking cock?”

Richie burst out laughing.

The truth was it did feel like something out of a Disney movie. Richie hadn't even had time to process it yet, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to either. Richie wasn’t used to good things happening to him, not this kind of good, and according to the history between him and Eddie, it was likely Richie was just reading too much into this and there was a totally logical explanation for what Eddie said that wasn’t what Richie thought. People say ‘I love you’ all the time anyway, right? But whatever, he didn’t want to get upset already when he could just enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

“Richie! You’re out in five!”

Better get ready for the show.

Microphone in hand and a shot of bourbon later (just a shot, not a glass. Progress!) Richie was delivering his stand-up like never before, or at least that’s how he felt. He was radiating, like looking at the fucking sun. And the audience? Jesus Christ, they were amazing! Laughing at every joke, cracking up, clapping like maniacs, making Richie feel like he was in a big bubble of joy. He didn’t even pay attention to the few empty rounds of seats, something he wasn’t used to seeing lately. Richie didn’t care that much anyway, he wasn’t in it for the money (not like the ticket sales affected him at all either), he was just glad everything was going so well in the world.

“Dude, are you high or something?” Barbara asked, grabbing Richie’s arm and talking close to his ear, looking at him like he was, in fact, high. “Why are you so happy?”

“I dunno, man. Life is good,” he shrugged. He felt a little high, to be honest.

“Life is _good?_” Barb raised an eyebrow, now looking at him like he was crazy. “Rich, this place is a ticking bomb. Everyone is super pissed. They already fucked the staff up by lowering their salaries like that, but now? The shit they pulled with the overpriced tickets and all that stuff? Man, this place is going down. Tell your friend he did all that work for nothing.”

“Wait, what stuff? What about the tickets?” Richie was confused. Did everyone know shit he didn’t?

“They increased the price of the tickets for your show, some of the best seats cost almost double now. People aren’t happy, especially the staff. I mean, I’m pretty much making the same amount of money now, they didn’t fuck us as bad as they did them. Steve didn’t tell you anything?”

“No,” Richie frowned. Did he? Maybe he was too busy bothering Steve with his own shit he never payed attention to important stuff like this. Was he being a lousy friend? “Do you know anything else? What are they going to do?”

“No idea, man. But I know if they all decided to quit at the same time this place wouldn’t last a second. And honestly, I’d do it if I were them. I know a lot of those guys are great at their job and they deserve better.”

“They totally do,” Richie nodded. “It sucks.”

“It does…” Barb agreed, making a face and looking at Richie. “Why are you still smiling, though?” Richie blinked a couple of times. Was he? “What is it? Did you get laid?”

“I _didn’t_, actually, but pretty close!” He said, impressed by Barbara’s detective skills. “It shows that much?”

“Well, the only teeth I’m seeing lately is from people growling, so a smile really stands out, to be honest.”

“Jeez, I should talk to Steve. See how he’s doing.”

Richie thought about going up right away, but maybe it wasn’t the best idea, considering Steve was still working, there were people about to go on stage and he still needed to perform once again before the workday ended. Barb would kill him if Steve messed up the lightning because of Richie pestering him during work hours.

He thought about calling Eddie to see how he was doing, but that could be a pretty quick way to burst his happy bubble if Eddie answered saying he was already at home and telling him he was stupid for making things up out of a little ‘I love you’. Shit, just thinking about the words made Richie smile like a teenager. Of course Barb could see it. His stupid face could be seen from the moon, Richie was sure.

He decided he would just hang out backstage with some of the crew, having a snack because he was starving and didn’t get the chance to eat lunch, making small talk and cracking jokes, trying to lift the spirits up. He understood the situation at work wasn’t nice at all, but he at least wanted to try everything he could to get people to be less miserable. He wished he could have the power to make the changes the place really needed, the ones Eddie suggested in his report. If he had the money he would buy the place just to make everyone happy. Of course he would have no idea on how to run a place like that, but at least he wouldn’t be a greedy fucker, so that would be a start. But no, Richie wasn’t meant to be anybody’s boss. He wasn’t a leader, he was a follower, although he knew who to follow, he had a great eye for leaders. Eddie, though. Eddie would be an awesome leader. He knew how to do things right, he had his mind in the right place, and he was also super bossy already. Yeah, Eddie could boss him around as much as Eddie wanted.

“Dude, are you high?” Rob asked, making a face and looking at Richie weird.

Damn. He needed to stop daydreaming already.

The rest of the day went well, as usual, although now Richie did pay attention to the empty seats next time he went on stage. It made him wonder if it was really worth it, saving the place at all. After all, it didn’t seem like Bartlow and the big guys were that interested in it at all. If they were really interested they would have hired a risk analyst for real. Not to disrespect Eddie, but he was still an intern, and he was sent to L.A. as a favor. Also, the moment Bartlow received the report, the only changes that were made were the ones that allowed him and the other guys to keep milking the place at the expense of the workers and now the clients too. It was clear they didn’t care about the theatre. They cared about the money.

“Hey, at least now you know how much people are willing to pay to see your ugly mug,” Steve said while they walked to their cars. They had been talking about it the moment they got out of the building, but it seemed that Steve wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything about it. He kept trying to change the subject.

“Shouldn’t that make me mad, though? They’re paying me the same and making so much more money?”

“Well, at least you’re getting the same,” Steve answered in a really harsh tone. It made Richie stop in his tracks.

“Dude! I’m not the bad guy here! I’m just trying to…” He moved his hands. He didn’t know, actually. He just wanted to make things better. “I don’t know, man. It sucks and I hate seeing you guys miserable and… I don’t know. Barb said she would quit if she was in your position.”

“Yeah? And how is that any better? Let’s say I quit. Let’s say we all quit. Will that change anything? They’ll find someone else who needs the job and offer them even less because they won’t know what to ask for. We won’t have a job, and the bastards running the place won’t feel a thing.”

“Not if I quit too,” Richie said immediately. By the look on Steve's face, he knew that wasn’t what he was expecting. Richie wasn’t expecting it either. He just wanted to help his friend, and if that meant quitting his stupid job, so be it. “No, listen. Let’s be real, okay? I’m part of the reason this is happening. People like my show for some reason, and they’re paying an insane amount of money, I don’t even wanna know how much, to see me. If I quit I really fuck them over, right? So let’s do it! I’ll quit, you’ll quit, everybody. Fuck ‘em.”

“Richie, you’re out of your mind,” Steve planted his face on his hands, but Richie could see he was smiling. At least he had made him smile. “You can’t do that. The Spot is not that bad for you, you’re actually making a name for yourself there. And it’s not the same, man. Nobody cares if a bunch of technicians quit their jobs, but you’re an artist… if you quit just to fuck them over and the word gets out,” Steve shook his head. “No, Rich. You can’t do that.”

“You think I care about that? Pfff, come on! Stand-up isn't that important to me,” Richie said, trying his best to sound convincing. The truth was his career was one of the only things he was proud of, and there were moments in his life where the only thing keeping him going was knowing he got to make people laugh. However, there was nothing more important than friends, and Richie knew that. So no matter what it cost, he wouldn’t let down Steve. “Look, I’ve done a lot of jobs before this, I can do them again. Did you know I’m awesome at rolling burritos?”

“Richie…” Steve looked at him with a fond smile, sighing. “That Eddie Kaspbrak is a lucky bastard, huh?”

“Ohhh Steeeeeve! I didn’t know you felt that way for meee!” Richie made a voice, throwing himself at Steve and trying to smooch him. Steve laughed, leaning away and pushing Richie’s face with both of his hands.

“Don’t even think about it, Tozier! There’s enough drama in your life already,” he said, and he wasn’t wrong. “And, just so you know, guess who’s coming home tonight to _watch a movie?_” He wiggled his eyebrows. Richie made his best surprised face.

“No! Did you really get Rumpelstiltskin to finally date you?” Richie asked in an overly excited voice. Steve made an annoyed face and Richie laughed.

“Did you really learn that name just so you could mess with Kyle?”

“Just so I could mess _with you_, my friend. I commit to my performances.”

“You know Rumples… whatever, wasn’t even a Leprechaun, right? And Kyle isn’t Irish either! He’s just a ginger.”

“I bet he is,” Richie smirked. “You knew who I was talking about, so. My job here is done!” He said, walking away to his car.

“I take it back, you know?!” Steve yelled at him. “You’re an awful friend!”

Richie laughed. Damn, he really loved Steve.

*

Richie parked his car in his usual spot, getting out of it and looking for his keys in his back pocket. He played with them, tossing them up, spinning them in his fingers while he walked to his apartment. He was a little nervous. Just a little. The uncertainty of not knowing if Eddie would be there waiting for him was killing him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out either. Every step he took got him closer to knowing, but in the meantime his chest and stomach felt like some kind of Schrödinger situation. His chest was constricted and his stomach was twisting, but he wouldn’t know why until he opened the door.

He stopped right in front of it, keys in hand, taking a deep breath and thinking about all the good reasons he had to just open the fucking door instead of just staying there standing, why he should stop being a pussy. What was he so afraid of anyway? Eddie not being there? Rejection? Loneliness? Fuck off, Richie, you should be friends with all of that already! Or maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe the real fear was finding Eddie there. Maybe he was afraid of what that would mean. Maybe the real problem was finding out Eddie did love him back, and facing the fact that it wouldn’t change him leaving in less than two months. Maybe he didn’t know how to handle a love like that. What did he know about getting good things anyway? He had always been a loser.

_Welcome to the losers club._

Richie dropped the keys, squinting his eyes and bringing his hands to his temples. Shit, his head hurt. And what was that voice inside him? Was that a memory? Richie reached down for his keys, trying to go back to that voice, to remember where it came from. Pictures run through his mind like flashes, water and rocks and red balloons, and then nothing else. Richie frowned, unable to understand.

Shit, was he going crazy? He shook his head, pushing the key into the lock and opening the door. A faint smell of pizza hit his nose before the sound of the TV reached his ears. He smiled immediately, forgetting about the weird thing his memory had just done a second ago and sprinting to the living room to meet a very present Eddie Kaspbrak sitting on his couch, legs up, wearing his now clean t-shirt and Richie’s pajama pants. Richie’s heart was ready to burst.

“Hey!” Eddie looked at Richie, a string of cheese still connecting Eddie’s mouth and the slice of pizza in his hand. “I fixed your remote,” he said, taking the remote from under a pillow and wiggling it in the air for Richie to see. “I cleaned the circuit board with isopropyl alcohol and washed the keypad with some warm water and soap, then put it back together and now every button works totally fine. I didn’t know if you had the things I needed, so I bought them. I found your spare keys on the key holder near the door, so I went out and got some stuff. I also ordered pizza. You want some?”

Richie crossed the room faster than ever in his life, jumping on the couch and taking the slice of pizza out of Eddie’s hand and leaving it on top of the closed box, holding his face with both hands and pressing his lips to Eddie’s, kissing him. Eddie looked at him in a bit of shock, but he smiled softly before Richie could start feeling the panic rising up. Richie smiled too, a little bit awkward, leaning back and looking at Eddie.

“Uh. Hi,” he said with a chuckle, seeing Eddie’s cheeks get red. “You stayed.”

“Yeah, I just… uh, thought It’d be rude to just leave, you know,” Eddie shrugged. “You weren’t here. I don’t like to leave without saying good bye.”

“You could have texted, called, I don’t mind,” Richie suggested, but Eddie just shook his head.

“Rude,” he said again, and then he smiled a little, looking around. “Also, your place is nicer than my shitty hotel room.”

Richie just laughed and held Eddie’s face, kissing him again. This time Eddie kissed him back, but he still made a face Richie didn’t totally understand. He moved a bit away. Maybe he was going too far. Maybe Eddie was just kissing him to be nice. Maybe…

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Richie. Just ask.

“This is okay, right?” He did ask, just in case, just to be sure.

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged but nodded too, clearing his throat. “You just took me by surprise. I'm not used to being kissed,” he explained, but it was obvious he could see Richie’s confusion about what he was implying. “She wasn’t… I mean, we weren’t really physical with each other, like, on a daily basis.”

“I can’t believe someone had the opportunity to kiss you whenever they liked and they didn’t take it,” Richie said, totally meaning it. He was fighting himself not to keep kissing Eddie right now. But he needed to know something first. “So, I couldn’t help to notice you used the past tense…”

“Well, I mean… there’s no reason to use the present tense since she’s not here,” he said, but Richie’s face was enough to tell him that was not a good answer. Eddie sighed. “She won’t pick up. Which I guess is fair, since I was the first one who stopped picking up her calls, but… The last conversation we had went awful and she, uh… said a bunch of hurtful things and I said some too. We didn’t break up, though. I mean, I want to. I would, if she picked up. And I know it’s not the best, you know, doing it on the phone, but waiting until I go back home would mean…” Eddie stopped, looking at Richie, like he was trying to find the best words to bring out what he was trying to say. “I understand if you don’t think that’s fair, and I totally get it if you just want to… you know, be friends. I love being your friend. I like it. Yeah. You’re great. You’re awesome. You’re, you know. Friends is cool,” Eddie nodded to himself. “But I meant what I said this morning. I do. I. I love you. Like, I’m pretty sure I’ve never loved anybody like I love you, which is creepy, I know that too. And I’d understand if you want to kick me out and call the cops on me because I’ve been here the whole day, in your house, like a squatter, and I’ve gone through your things, but I promise I’m not a creep, I was just looking for a screwdriver to fix the remote so y―”

Richie kissed him again. As much as he loved to hear Eddie ramble, right in that moment the only thing he wanted on Eddie’s mouth was his own. So he kissed him, and Eddie jumped, gasping and opening his eyes wide, only to close them the second after, smiling and relaxing and putting his arms around Richie’s shoulders. For Richie, that was sign enough to hold Eddie closer to his body, only truly realizing their size difference when he pushed Eddie in the center of his chest, fully covering him with his arms in a hug. He kissed harder too, deeper, every time their mouths stopped touching to gasp for air leaning back in to ask for more. Who the fuck cares about air when there’s Eddie.

“Richie…” Eddie whispered, breaking the kiss and putting his hands on Richie’s shoulders when he tried to kiss him back again. “Wait.”

“Too fast? Richie asked, resting his forehead on Eddie’s and taking deep breaths. He did need air after all. “You need to tell me because I can be pretty dumb sometimes, you know? So you…”

“No. No, it’s fine. You’re fine,” Eddie assured. “I’m just… Like I said, not used to this, so it’s a little… uh. Overwhelming. But that doesn’t mean… I do want you,” he said, lowering his voice, and Richie probably shouldn’t have felt that wave of heat running down his lower stomach, but he could only control so much of himself, okay?

“Do you?” Richie asked, shifting a little in his seat, getting closer to Eddie but trying not to be all over him. He just wanted to hear Eddie say it again. He was a sucker like that.

“I do,” Eddie nodded, pressing his lips together and lowering his head when the embarrassment reached his cheeks. “I want you.”

“Jesus, Eds,” Richie chuckled, leaning in to whisper at Eddie’s ear. “I mean, you did sound like you _wanted _me this morning,” he said, making Eddie raise his head to look at him with eyes so wide, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Also, his cheeks? Fucking scarlet. That only encouraged Richie to go for more. “Really, pulling at my hair? Almost fucking my mouth? And so fucking bossy, my goodness. You were eager to have me, weren’t you?”

“Oh my _god!”_ Eddie exclaimed, making Richie burst out laughing. “Are you for real? Is this how this is going to be? Are you going to be like that every time we have any type of sex??” He let out a nervous laugh, covering his face with his hands, what only made the situation even funnier.

“So you do want to do it again! Any other kink I should be aware of, _sir?”_ Richie teased, and if eyes could kill Richie would be lying dead on the couch right then and there.

“You liked it! You fucking _loved _it!” Eddie frowned, pointed at Richie with his fingers, accusing him.

“Of course I did!” Richie agreed, and by the look on Eddie’s face Richie knew he wasn’t expecting that answer. The scowl was gone and the redness on his cheeks was spreading all over his face. “It was so hot, Eds, I swear to god. You made me cream my pants, man. Do you know when the last time I did that was?”

“Yesterday?” Eddie mocked him, but he wouldn’t meet Richie’s eyes.

“Ha! Hilarious. No, Eds. I can’t really remember, to be honest, but it was a fuck long time ago, I can tell you that. Do you know how much I jerk off? I’ve mastered the art of coming, dude. I can go on for hours. I’ve fisted my cock so much I’ve got no sensitivity, I’m pretty sure I’ve worn down all of my sensory receptors and shit!”

“Dude, shut up!” Eddie covered his face again, but he was laughing, Richie could hear him. “How can you say those things?”

“Because they’re true! Eddie, you get me so fucking… shit, I’m getting a semi just thinking about it.”

“Fuck off!” Eddie punched him lightly on the shoulder, looking at him like he didn’t totally understand. “Do you really think I’m… hot?” He asked, phrasing the last word like it was something totally detached from him. Richie’s eyebrows went all up to his hairline. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“Are you kidding me? Eds, you’re…” He opened his mouth and closed it, thinking about it. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” He asked, maybe a little more breathy than he intended too. Eddie’s face changed, and he looked away again.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, looking like there was an internal debate, a real fight, going on inside his head. “It’s actually pretty late and, uh… I bet you’ve got things to do, and you’re probably tired. And I’ve taken too much advantage of your hospitality already, so I probably should lea―”

“You can just say no,” Richie smiled, interrupting Eddie’s excuses. “It’s fine. We don’t need to do anything. Just because we did something once doesn’t mean you need to be ready to do anything else, or even the same again,” he cupped the back of Eddie’s head, rubbing it. “I’m just happy to have you here.”

“I feel silly,” Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “I’m old enough to not be this stupid, but I don’t know… It’s just. I never saw myself like, uh.” Eddie frowned, pressing the bridge of his nose. “I guess I’ve never seen myself as someone _desirable_. Like, why anyone would want to… share their germs with me?” He laughed, but there was something else behind it, something that made Richie’s stomach twist. “So I’m having a hard time seeing myself in this situation, and believing _you_ really…”

“I do,” Richie replied right away. “And I’ll tell you every time you need to hear it and I’ll try to shut up if it bothers you too. And I’ll show you if you let me, in any way you want me to, in any way you need me to. Everything is fine with me, Eds, I promise.”

“Thanks, Richie,” Eddie smiled, biting nervously at his bottom lip and looking down at their legs barely touching. “I guess kisses aren't that bad,” he said, a little smirk opening on his face. Richie smiled too, getting closer, whispering.

“Yeah, I think I can work with that.”

*

Richie gets Eddie to stay. At home, that night, not forever in L.A. Eddie says he needs to leave because it’s getting late and he needs to get to his hotel before the reception closes for the night. Richie kisses him and asks him to spend the night and, when Eddie hesitates Richie doesn’t kiss him again, he just holds his hands and tells him it’s okay, he doesn’t need to do anything he doesn’t want to, but it doesn’t have to mean anything else just staying the night. They don’t need to kiss again, they don’t need to sleep together. Richie would gladly take the couch again if that made Eddie feel more comfortable. The only thing Richie wants him to know is that he doesn’t need to leave, he can stay, for as long as he want, no matter the conditions, no matter what Eddie needs, Richie will be there.

So Eddie stays. He stays and he kisses Richie even when he doesn’t need to, and he goes to bed with Richie even when he doesn’t need to either. When they get in bed, a little nervous, heart beating fast, pulling the covers over themselves to hide from the world and kissing again, kissing and kissing and tangling legs, and holding hands, and kissing all over again, Richie wonders if he really cracked the way Eddie’s head works. Whenever Richie takes a step further, Eddie takes it too but then he takes another step back. But then, only when Richie accepts that and obliges Eddie’s wishes, Eddie takes that step forward again, and maybe even another tiny one more.

At first Richie thinks maybe Eddie likes to take the lead. That wouldn’t be a problem for Richie. But it’s not really the case. Eddie never takes the first step, he always waits for a sign, Richie’s sign, to know he’s going in the right direction. Eddie doesn’t take risks, and that’s okay (risk analyst after all, duh), Richie is more than happy taking risks for Eddie even if that means getting hurt now and then. The really interesting thing happens right after that risk is taken. Eddie automatically puts up all his defense mechanisms. It’s almost like he’s expecting Richie to demand a compensation for putting himself out there, ‘I like you, so you must like me back, I find you attractive, so we must have sex’, so he shields himself before that happens. It’s only when Richie lets him know it’s okay not to want things or do things or feel things when Eddie really allows himself to do what he truly wants.

It’s almost like, somehow, Eddie was used to people using love and affection to make him do things he never wanted to do, and blamed him or made him feel guilty if he didn’t do them. It was painful for Richie to think about how Eddie learned to be wary of love, because love could justify the most awful things. And with that thought in mind, tangled under the sheets, kissing Eddie like they were a couple of teenagers in love for the first time, Richie held Eddie’s face and rest their heads together, their noses touching.

“I won’t ask for anything,” he whispered, trying to make out Eddie’s eyes in the dark.

“What?” Eddie asked, so Richie repeated it again.

“I won’t ask for anything,” he said. “Whatever I give you, I do it because I want to. The way I feel for you is just mine, and you don’t need to do anything about it. I would give you everything, Eds, but you don’t have to take it. And if you take it, you don’t have to give me anything back. I love you,” he whispered, and he realized, looking at Eddie’s shiny eyes, this was the first time he had said it out loud. “And I’m just happy to know you love me back.” Richie smiled, moving his had to cup Eddie’s cheek, wiping away with his thumb a little tear that had escaped Eddie’s eye.

“I love you too, Rich,” Eddie spoke so low his voice was barely audible, pressing his lips in a thin line and moving forward to hug Richie closely, hiding his face in Richie’s neck. “I wish we could go back in time.”

“Time doesn’t exist, Eds,” Richie smiled, hugging him too, pressing him into his chest, kissing the top of his head. “We have all the time we want.”

And right there, holding Eddie in his arms, and feeling pretty sure about having cracked whatever was inside Eddie’s mind, Richie closed his eyes, drifting away to sleep. Maybe if he had gotten Eddie to stay at home for the night, it wouldn’t be that hard to get him to stay with him for real, forever, in L.A.

*

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

Richie looked away from the TV and paid attention to Steve. Whatever it was he was talking about, it sounded important. It was their free day, The Spot was closed, and Eddie was doing crazy hours of work, so Richie decided it would be a good idea to hang out at Steve’s, maybe watch some game (Steve was really into sports), have fun.

“Do you mean it? Would you quit?” Steve asked and Richie frowned for a second, remembering the conversation Steve was talking about and nodding, placing his beer on the coffee table and facing him.

“I would, yeah. Those bastards deserve it anyway. We can find something else to do.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about,” Steve said, getting more serious and moving closer to Richie on the couch. “Look, I’ve been asking around, been talking to people. I’ve been in this business since I was sixteen. I know I’m just a fucking technician, but I know how things work, I know the insides and, most importantly, I know people.” He said. It got Richie’s attention. “You are definitely something, Richie. You’re good at what you do, you have the kind of charisma you can’t build, you’re either born with it or you don’t have it, and you do. People love you, and I know you could be huge. There’s no reason for you to rot away in that place when you could be… I don’t know, fucking touring the country!”

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating,” Richie laughed, but Steve looked dead serious.

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve talked to people. I don’t know if you’ve heard of VAS Agency, it’s a boutique agency, it’s small and they’re pretty new, but I’ve worked for some people who are there now, and they focus on comedy talent. They’ve offered me a job as an agent, but only if you come with me.”

“They want you to be my agent?” Richie joked, mostly because he was taken aback by what Steve just said and he needed as much time as possible to process it. “I… I don’t know, Steve. Do you really think I could…?”

“I’m not saying you’re going to be the next Charlie fucking Chaplin, Rich. They don’t have huge connections, but they have the right ones, and I know these people. We can grow together, and I’d make sure you got better deals than what you’re getting at The Spot. I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t sure of that.”

“Would you get me a better deal here in L.A?” Richie asked. “You said they have the right connections. Where are those ‘connections’ located?”

“They’re all over the country, Richie! You can’t limit yourself like that…”

“So not California, that’s what you’re saying.”

“Yes, there are places in California I could try to get you in, but would it be that bad to leave? What’s wrong with, I don’t know, Phoenix, for example?”

“Fucking Phoenix??”

“Rich, it’s just an example, man. I just want to help you out. I want you to grow, and you won’t do it hiding in that shitty place.”

“You work in that shitty place too.”

“Not for long.”

Richie sighed. Steve was right, he knew he was right, but still. Richie had lived in a lot of places, had a lot of jobs, and it never seemed like a big deal. There was something different now. He knew what it was. He was just too scared to admit it out loud.

“Can we wait until… you know, until Eddie leaves?” Richie asked. Steve put a hand on Richie’s shoulder, squeezing.

“You knew he would leave,” Steve said, but that wasn’t helpful at all. Richie didn’t want to think about it. His chest felt so tight it was like he couldn’t even breathe.

“Maybe I could get him to stay…” He knew how stupid it sounded, how childlike.

“Richie, he has his life, he’s working hard to get what he wants. I mean, the only reason he’s here is because he decided he wouldn’t mind traveling across the country to prove his value to his company and get the position he deserves. You don’t want him to abandon that to stay here for you. You don’t want to spend all your life feeling guilty for making him do that.” Steve was right. Richie hadn’t thought about it that way, but it was the truth. “What you should do is exactly the same as he did. Build your own road, find your path, work hard to get what you deserve.”

When Richie went back home it was almost seven, but Eddie was still working. A few days had passed since that first time Eddie stayed at home with Richie, and somehow they have managed to fall into a routine where Eddie comes for dinner and stays the night, leaving early every morning for work even if he could do it from home. He says he prefers to work in his room at the hotel and Richie respects that. He understands Eddie needs his own space and, even though Richie’s apartment is considerably big, there’s only one room Eddie could use as a workplace: Richie’s office. That place is a total disaster. So yeah, Richie understands.

They haven’t gone further either, physically speaking, since Eddie had been staying with Richie. Richie hasn’t pushed and Eddie… Richie is not sure what Eddie really wants or expects. They do kiss, of course, and maybe it’s because that’s the only way he can touch Eddie, Richie feels like he has developed some kind of oral fixation which makes him eager to put his mouth on Eddie, no matter the places, no matter the time. Sometimes it feels almost childlike, just kissing and keeping his hands above the waist, but then the kisses get hungrier, deeper, they turn into bites, and Richie fists his hands, digs his nails hard into his palms, forcing himself not to touch more than he should.

So Richie redirects his energy into something creative, like writing new jokes, cleaning the place (just sometimes) and cooking! The first time Richie suggested he could make dinner Eddie laughed at him, making some joke about dying from food poisoning. Richie didn’t say a word, he just cooked the best fucking chili chicken and rice of his life and let the food speak for itself. Eddie was amazed, and Richie knew he had found his new hobby.

It wasn’t new for him, cooking. Not only had he worked in a few restaurants before, he'd also been preparing his own meals since he left home, and as much as Richie liked the easiness of just ordering take out, he knew nothing could compare with a nice homemade meal. The only problem was cooking for one wasn’t very rewarding, it was a lot of work to just enjoy it by yourself, so having Eddie home was the best excuse to go back to cooking.

Eddie couldn’t cook to save his life.

“Rich, you home?” Eddie’s voice came through the front door. Yeah, Richie had given him a spare key. It was absurd to be knocking every time he wanted to come in. It really didn’t mean that much. “Shit, what’s that smell?”

“The meanest lasagna you’ve ever tasted,” Richie came from the kitchen, apron and everything, with the biggest smug look on his face. “You’re gonna l-o-v-e it.”

Eddie just smiled, walking towards Richie and standing on his tiptoes to peck him. Richie felt like melting. It was absurd how fast they had been able to fall into that kind of domesticity, but it felt so natural Richie didn’t even think about it. He only remembered it wasn’t usual when he said something about it to Steve and Steve made a face, but he hadn't really cared either.

“I’m done with this one too,” Eddie said, talking about the company he had visited that day while they had dinner. “Just one more left and I will be done for real!”

“Yes!” Richie joined him. “You’ve worked so hard, man. Your boss better gives you a substantial raise after all the shit you’ve gotten done here.”

“They’ve told me the clients are very happy, so they said they would probably give me a permanent contract when I go back,” Eddie smiled, bringing the fork to his mouth to take a bite of lasagna. “I’m so happy.”

“I’m so proud of you, Eds. You totally deserve it,” Richie smiled too, looking down at his plate and poking at his food, not really taking anything. “So, when are you going back home?”

“Next month. The twentieth. My company provided the return ticket, so I didn’t… you know,” Eddie answered, looking down too. Suddenly their half-eaten lasagnas seemed so interesting.

“I’m quitting my job,” Richie suddenly said. Eddie looked up, surprised. “I… Steve is, too. And he offered me this thing. He’s going to be my agent, you know? So stupid. Me, having an agent… But he got an offer from an agency and he’s taking me with him, so maybe, I don’t know, next time you know about me I’m a celebrity in Phoenix.”

“Phoenix?” Eddie asked, now more confused than surprised.

“It’s just an example. We don’t know… I’m not quitting yet. I’ll probably wait until Steve finds something for me and… I also want to wait until you leave.”

They both looked at each other, the dinner long forgotten.

“You don’t need to do that,” Eddie said, his voice now softer, lower. “You’re good at what you do, you know? You do make me laugh, a lot. And you make other people laugh too. You have something I can’t explain, Richie, and you should share it with the world,” he smiled fondly. “I support you. Go for it. Do what you need to do.”

Richie looked at him, feeling more loved than he had ever felt in his life. He put the fork on the place, moving in his seat.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. Eddie chuckled and nodded, so Richie took his face in his hands, capturing Eddie’s lips in his, kissing him softly, closing his eyes and allowing himself to show in that kiss everything that was inside him. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Don’t think about it,” Eddie whispered, kissing Richie back. “There’s still time. I don’t want to get sad already.”

Richie nodded, Eddie was right, but he couldn’t help feeling like something inside him would die the moment Eddie left, and his body was already mourning the loss. He hugged Eddie, pressing him closer to him, kissing his cheek, his temple, pushing his fingers through Eddie’s hair. It wasn’t fair, life wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t control everything and… shit, the only thing he could do was enjoy it while it lasted.

“Could you talk to Myra about…?” Richie didn’t need to finish the question, he didn’t want to either. Eddie shook his head, his face hidden in Richie’s neck.

“She won’t pick up,” he answered, tightening the hug and lowering his voice. “I may have stopped trying too,” he confessed. Richie laughed, kissing’s Eddie’s head.

“Maybe you… Maybe you shouldn’t tell her,” he said, feeling a lump in his throat no matter how hard he tried to swallow it. “Maybe it’s not worth it, ruin everything with her since… since we probably won’t see each other again.”

“Do you think I could do that?” Eddie moved away to look at Richie, frowning. “I’m not a cheater, Richie.”

“Eddie, I didn’t…”

“_And_, even if I could…” Eddie shook his head, touching Richie’s face. “There’s no way I could go back to that, to whatever that was. Now that I know how… _this_ should really feel, I don’t think I could settle for anything less.” Eddie smiled, giving Richie a little peck on the lips. “Even if we never see each other again, I won’t forget you, Richie. I won’t forget how this feels. This time I will remember.”


	10. It comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey guys! New chapter here, unbeta'ed because I'm an impatient motherfucker and I needed to post it already, so sorry for any mistakes you may find, I hope the plot is interesting enough so you can overlook them. Enjoy!
> 
> *Edit: Now beta-read by Serenity, as always (thank you!)

Steve quit his job almost immediately and Richie didn’t expect it to affect him that much. You never know how much your day can improve just by knowing that no matter how things go at work you’ll have your best friend there to go through it with you. The new guy was nice, younger than Steve, and made friends quickly with the rest of the crew. Richie wondered if he was aware of what was going on.

“You’re gonna do it too, right?” Barbara asked, and Richie tried to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “It’s fine, I get it. Like I told you, I’d do the same. But I’d like it if you told me, just so I know if I should actually do the same. This place will go down the moment you’re out. So, should I start looking for something else?”

“It wouldn’t hurt, yeah,” Richie said, and that was enough.

He didn’t like to say going to work became boring because he still enjoyed doing his stand-up, making people laugh, feeling the love from the audience, but it wasn’t as fun anymore. Richie started to notice things, faces, words, empty seats, that would automatically remind him this wasn’t going to last. It reminded him this wasn’t the end of his road. It reminded him he and Eddie didn’t have much time left.

It was complicated, whatever was going on between them. They loved each other, which was as clear as it was rare and maybe even a little weird. Eddie had started spending the nights at Richie’s and leaving in the morning for work, but then one morning Richie woke up and found Eddie sitting in bed next to him, his back leaning on the headboard, the constant sound of clicking filling up the room as Eddie worked on his laptop.

“It was so cold this morning I thought it wouldn’t matter if I just worked from here,” Eddie said, making guilty face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Richie just smiled, snuggling closer and closing his eyes again. He felt so fucking happy. So that was enough for Eddie to start working from Richie’s home too. It didn’t look easy, truth to be told, working from home when you don’t even have a proper desk. Every day Richie would wake up and see Eddie in a different part of the house, using the coffee table, the kitchen counter, the dining table. It made Richie feel a little bad, but also a little good, thinking Eddie was going through those small inconveniences to stay with him. And then one day, Richie came home from work and Eddie said: “hey, would you help me here?”

That’s how Richie ended up cleaning up his ‘office’ after years of just using it to pile things up. They filled up a big trash bag of useless papers, and Richie discovered books and movies he thought were lost. They spent the first day deciding what was worth keeping and what belonged in the trash, then Eddie put everything in the right place - according to him - and he even brought a plant from which Richie had no idea where he got it from. They dusted the shelves, waxed the desk, cleaned the windows and mopped the floor, and by the second day of working on it, Richie’s office was the best place in the house.

“This is amazing,” Richie grinned, looking around. “Is there anything you cannot do, Eds?”

“Well…” Eddie seemed hesitant, and he still had as he walked closer to Richie, gently pushing him against the desk. Then his knees hit the floor and Richie was out of words too.

He thought if he had known Eddie would suck his cock as a reward for cleaning his office he would have done it sooner. Of course that didn’t seem right, Eddie wasn’t the kind of person to use sex as a tool (or to use sex, at all), so it had to have another explanation. Richie didn’t really care, to be honest. He just tried not to come right away. The motherfucker was _good _at it. It didn’t make sense because it was Eddie’s first time, after all, Richie didn’t doubt it. It was obvious he didn’t have any practice but he did do everything that would make Richie lose his head. And then he swallowed and licked him clean and Richie almost died on the spot.

“How the fuck did you…” Richie started to ask, although he wasn’t sure exactly what.

“I wanted to do it since you told me about it on the phone,” Eddie gave him a shy smile.

“Oh, right. I did that,” Richie remembered. “I’m sorry I did that… although I’m not sure if I should be,” he laughed. Eddie shook his head, kissing him.

“Don’t be.” Eddie put his arms around Richie’s shoulders, smiling. “So, can I bring some of my work stuff here?”

“Sure, yeah. Bring anything you want to,” Richie said. Eddie smiled widely.

And that’s how Richie’s office became Eddie’s office, and suddenly some of his clothes were in Richie’s closet, and Eddie’s toiletries appeared in Richie’s bathroom, and some days Eddie came home from work with bags full of groceries, talking about this new recipe Richie should totally try, and Richie would just jump him and kiss him and push him up against the nearest wall, making Eddie laugh because how could he get so worked up talking about food?

It wasn’t really the food, or the fancy shampoo or the improvised crop tops Richie wore when he put on one of Eddie’s t-shirts instead one of his. It was the domesticity, the feeling of belonging and how Eddie had managed to make his way into Richie’s life without Richie even noticing it, without Richie caring. Richie had dated people before, got more physically intimate with them than he had with Eddie, and still, he never felt comfortable enough to allow them to just get inside (his house, his heart). With Eddie, it was the obvious thing to do, like when Richie emptied a drawer for Eddie’s boxer shorts and socks, he thought ‘of course, this is how it should be’. And still, Richie wouldn’t dare to put a label on it. How do you call a relationship that’s exactly the life a happily married couple have but will only last for another month before it all ends?

A disaster. You call it a disaster.

Richie knew this, but knowing something and acknowledge it are very different things. Richie was far away from acknowledging anything regarding his and Eddie’s relationship. He thought laying on the couch together eating popcorn and watching a movie was a much more interesting thing to do.

“You know, I must admit your taste in movies isn't as bad as I thought it would be,” Eddie said, munching popcorns and looking at the TV as the credits rolled.

“I’m an artist, baby! Of course my taste is flawless! What did you think?” Richie acted all offended, making Eddie laugh.

“I thought you’d like things like _The Blob_ or _I Married a Monster from Outer Space_. What is this called again?”

“_Ikiru_,” Richie answered, but he kept looking at Eddie, a little smile opening on his face. “I actually loved those kinds of movies when I was a kid.”

“Did you?” Eddie asked, although it didn’t really sound like a question. He left the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and moved to get more comfortable, leaning on Richie.

“My dad had a pretty good collection of movies, old movies. And I watched them all, but I especially liked the horror ones.”

“You like getting scared?” Eddie laughed.

“I guess. Although they didn’t scare me that much. I don’t know, it felt like a safe way to explore fear. Except for the fucking Teenage Werewolf. That motherfucker freaked the fuck out of me,” Richie confessed.

“Are you sure freak out is the right terminology? Because Michael Landon looked fucking hot in that one. Maybe that was the scary part,” Eddie teased, and Richie smiled too because he wasn’t wrong.

“He _was_ hot, but I don’t think that was the reason it was scary,” Richie replied, thinking about it. “It was just… it was the plot that was scary, like… He didn’t have control over what he was. They used him and they forced him to act out on his most primitive instincts and… those instincts made him a monster. It felt like such a lonely life to live. But then again, I kind of lived that life too, you know? Thinking if people knew what was really inside me they would discover I was…”

“Shit, I never…” Eddie stopped himself, bit his lips, frowning. “Did you ever tell anyone?” He asked, and Richie just shook his head. Eddie sighed, clicking his tongue and moving to straddle Richie’s legs, putting his hands on Richie’s shoulders. Richie looked up, surprised. “Listen. There’s nothing wrong with you, okay? Your primitive instincts are totally fine. They’re more than fine, actually,” he suggested, making Richie chuckle. “You’re perfect and I’m glad you… found me and made me realize I wasn’t… I’m glad you found me.”

“Aw, look at you, Eds, being such a cutie,” Richie laughed, holding Eddie’s waist, just to leave his hands there. “I don’t think like that anymore, you know? But it’s always nice to hear pretty things.”

“You’re welcome,” Eddie said, lowering his hands from Richie’s shoulders to his chest, looking at them. “Can I ask you something?” He said, and Richie thought about saying some stupid shit like ‘you already have’ but he shut up and just nodded. “When did you came out?”

“Oh. I…” That was a good question. Richie laughed, feeling a little caught up. “I guess I haven’t? I… I think I always liked guys but I was too afraid of doing anything about it. Then I met Steve and he was out and proud and… I started talking about guys, but only managed to touch them when I was very drunk,” Richie explained, feeling like he was exposing himself too much. He felt comfortable enough around Eddie to be vulnerable, but that didn’t mean it felt good. Richie never felt good talking too much about himself. “But then I saw your hot bod and I was like, sign me up for the rainbow train, baby!” He joked, digging his fingers into Eddie’s side and making him laugh.

“Shut up, asshole. It was a serious question!”

“I’ve got a serious question for you, too.” Richie said, looking Eddie up and down as much as he could. “For how long did you plan on hiding this from me?” He asked, sliding his hand under Eddie’s shirt and tickling his abdomen. Eddie laughed again, drawing back and pushing Richie’s hand off but not really hard enough to make him stop. “Dude, you’re fit!”

“I told you I used to run track in high school and college,” Eddie said, taking his hands from Richie’s and putting them back on Richie’s chest. Richie kept his resting on Eddie’s stomach. “I still like running. I usually go running in the mornings. I haven’t been doing it a lot since I came here, but I try.”

“Wait, you mean you wake up every morning and… run? Like, before going to work?” Richie asked, and Eddie just nodded, giving him an amused face. Richie was shocked. “When do you wake up?”

“It depends, sometimes 05:00 am, sometimes 06:00 am…” Eddie didn’t finish his sentence, just started laughing when Richie looked at him like he'd confessed multiple murders. “What?”

“Are you _insane??_ Why the hell would you do that? Do you hate yourself that much?”

“I like it!” Eddie replied, still laughing. “It feels good, it feels like running away from everything. I feel… free.”

Richie looked at him, placing both of his hands on Eddie’s hips. A lot of thoughts rushed into his head, like why running away had a good meaning in Eddie’s vocabulary, why being free meant somehow escaping his life, why hearing him felt like hearing a bird talk about the sky while being in a cage. It was too overwhelming, so Richie took the easy route.

“Why run away when you could be running towards me?” He overacted a flirty smirk, winking before grabbing Eddie’s shirt and pulling at him. Eddie rolled his eyes but he smiled too, kissing Richie when their faces met. Richie squeezed Eddie’s hips, pressing them down against him just a little before putting his arms around Eddie’s body, hugging him close.

“You make me feel free too,” Eddie whispered, his face hiding on Richie’s neck. Richie had picked up the pattern. Eddie never looked at him when he said those kinds of things, embarrassing ones, vulnerable ones. It made Richie wonder if Eddie really thought those were things he needed to be ashamed of. He didn’t ask. He just accepted the compliment and hugged Eddie closer, kissing his temple and whispering into his hair.

“I’d spend my life running if it meant running towards you,” he said, feeling his own face heating up. He closed his eyes. God, he was so dumb. “It’d be pretty gross, though. Because, you know, I sweat a lot. You saw me on stage, and I’m not even moving up there. When I run, Eds, it’s like I’ve taken a long bath in a stinky pool of sweat,” he added, because of course. Richie wasn’t even trying to help it anymore. No point fighting his mouth. Eddie cringed and laughed, making a disgusted noise. “It wouldn’t be pretty baby, but I’d do it for you. I’d have to wear really cheap underwear, like white cotton granny style. Because after that they would have to go straight to a pit of fire,” he continued, hugging Eddie closer when he tried to escape, making gagging noises and twisting in Richie’s arms and _‘oh my god Richie’_. “No, no, shhh. Listen to me. That’s not the worst part. I mean, groin sweat is pretty disgusting, but my feet? Jesus, Eddie. Would have to leave the shoes on the windowsill, steaming like a hot pie, toes pruning like a five-year-old left alone in the bathtub.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie, stop it!” Eddie begged, but he was cracking up, hiding his face further on Richie’s neck to muffle his laughs. “You’re so fucking gross.”

“See? I told you there was something wrong inside me. I’m super gross,” Richie looked at Eddie with a mischievous smile. “And you’ve seen nothing yet,” he said, grabbing Eddie’s face and licking a stripe across his cheek, drooling all over him. Eddie actually squealed and Richie almost died laughing.

“You’re sick! I retire everything I said. You’re the worst!!” Eddie accused him, using the hem of his t-shirt to wipe up his face, but he was laughing a little too, so Richie took advantage of the situation and licked another stripe across Eddie’s stomach when he exposed it, making him recoil. “Richie, I swear to God!”

“Can’t help it!” Richie defended himself, tackling Eddie down and pushing up his shirt again to bite and suck a bruise on Eddie’s side. “You’re just so tasty.”

“I’m ticklish, idiot,” Eddie laughed, but he didn’t put up a fight when Richie pushed his shirt further up to keep licking him and biting him. He actually took it off.

Eddie’s laughs were getting more breathy, little moans escaping in between them, still wiggling and pretending to resist to Richie’s touch. Richie was having fun, he didn’t have anything else in mind, just a good old teasing, but then he dragged his mouth down, biting under Eddie’s navel, and he felt it at the same time Eddie let out a soft, low cry. Right there, under Eddie’s jeans, he was getting hard.

“So gross, Richie,” he mocked mimicking a stupid voice, pressing his open mouth to the outline of Eddie’s cock. Eddie gave him a dirty look, or he tried. His eyes were too foggy to really work.

“Fuck you,” Eddie grunted, taking Richie’s mouth in his when Richie moved up to kiss him, a smug smile on his face.

“You really like it dirty,” Richie whispered like it was a secret he had just found out. “Is that what you want from me? To be all gross with you? ‘Cause, baby, I can do much better things than drooling all over your stomach.”

“Shut up, it has nothing to do with that,” Eddie complained, but his cheeks were red and his cock kept growing harder in his pants.

“The button of your jeans thinks differently…” Richie chuckled. “But it’s fine. I’ll stop if you don’t want this. You know I would never…” he started to move up, but Eddie grabbed his wrist, holding him down, looking at Richie with fire in his eyes.

“You better finish what you started.”

“Is that a threat? Ooh, Eds, you make me feel all tingly when you boss me around like this,” Richie joked, hiding the fact that he really felt Eddie’s solid voice right between his legs. He lied by Eddie’s side, sliding a hand across Eddie’s stomach and popping free the button of his jeans, kissing Eddie’s cheek and whispering. “How would you like me to finish it?” He opened the zipper slowly, making Eddie let out a sigh of relief.

“You know what to do,” Eddie grunted, decided, but there was something else in his voice, something that sounded like embarrassment. Richie didn’t know how to fix that, but he might as well try.

“I know a lot of things,” he said, pushing down Eddie’s underwear and letting Eddie’s cock spring free. “I know things you’ve told me, and I know things I’ve learned myself. I’m pretty smart, you know?” He smiled, licking his lips when he put his hand around Eddie’s cock, starting to move it slowly. “I know you like this, because you’ve told me. And I also know…” Richie moved his hand up, licking his palm so wet it dripped, bringing it down and grabbing Eddie again, “you love this. Because I’m smart. And I’ve learned the filthiest I do this the faster you’ll come.”

“Richie, shut up,” Eddie let out a strangled moan, thrusting against Richie’s fist.

“Oh, but you don’t want to come that fast, do you? You want to enjoy it a little longer,” Richie teased, bringing his hand back up and spitting on it to make the handjob even slicker, making Eddie gasp Richie’s name, biting his lips to stop himself from moaning. “Don’t worry baby, I don’t mind if you spill all over my couch. We can make this as messy as you want. We can take it a little further, even,” he said, repressing a smug smile when he pressed his nose to Eddie’s hair, talking to his ear, pacing up his fist. “You can help me a little with that. You can take my fingers in your mouth and get them really wet so I can push them inside you, work you open. I bet you’re so tight,” he grunted, making his fist tighter. “But you’d take them so well, Eds. I can feel it, fucking you open with my fingers. Would you like that? Or maybe you’d prefer my tongue there, too. Is that dirtier?”

“Richie, _for God’s sake_,” Eddie cried, looking at Richie like he was having a vision.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Richie smiled, fisting Eddie’s cock faster. “You’d go crazy just feeling me drooling down your legs. I’d eat you out so good you’d be begging me to fuck you. And by the end of it I’d just need to spit on my cock to push it inside you, sliding in so good you…” Richie felt Eddie shake, his eyes closing and his mouth opening, his whole body shuddering as he came on Richie’s fist, dripping everywhere. “Oh, shit.”

“Sorry… I don’t…” Eddie blinked, looking at the stained couch and then at Richie. “I didn’t…” Richie kissed the apology away. He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“That was so fucking hot, Eds,” Richie said, licking his lips like he could taste it. “Don’t you dare apologize. Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable.”

“I…” Eddie smiled, looking away for a second. “Are you…?”

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.” Thanks to Eddie, Richie had some pretty sweet pictures for his spank bank that would last for years. Eddie stopped him when he tried to get up, though, moving on top of him.

“No way you’re taking this away from me.” He unbuttoned Richie’s pants and shoved them down. “Let me suck your cock.”

And who was Richie to say no to that, huh?

*

“I still can’t believe you guys are together. I remember the way that guy talked about security and hygiene and just being safe. How he allows you to even touch him is beyond me.”

“You’d be surprised…” Richie said under his breath, grinning when Steve gave him a dirty look. “It’s the power of love, Steve!”

“Love is something straight guys invented so they could hook a nice girl and prevent her from going out looking for a better alternative.”

“What is it, Steve? Why are you so bitter? Is Kyle’s cock not long enough?” Richie asked, showing his best concerned face. “Oh, wait. Is it not thick enough? Does he have one of those pencil penises? Dude, I am so sorry…”

“The fuck you’re talking about? At least there is some penis action on my side,” Steve scoffed. “I wouldn’t mind if any of you guys had a shitty cock, it wouldn’t go near anyone’s ass anyway.”

“You’re just jealous of our love. And our cocks,” Richie said, totally convinced. “Did you know cocks could be pretty? I always thought they were like, you know, a piece of meat. You may want to put it in your mouth, but that doesn’t mean it belongs to a museum.” Steve looked at him like he was bracing for the next thing Richie was going to say. “Well, Eddie’s cock is the fucking Sistine Chapel.”

“Wow,” Steve gave him a shocked look. “You did go there.”

“You asked for it!”

“I don’t want to picture your boyfriend’s cock, Richie!”

“He’s not…!” Richie stopped, tightening his jaw and pressing his lips in a thin line. Dammit, he had played himself. He sighed. “He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t really know what we are, to be honest.”

Richie lowered his head, clicking his tongue with a sad smile. Steve looked at him and rolled his eyes but he put a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“See? It’s not fair. We used to joke like this all the time, and now every time I mention him, you get sad.” Steve made a face. “You look like a kicked puppy and now I feel bad. I don’t like it. You should buy me beer to make me feel better.”

“I’m the one who needs to make you feel better?” Richie laughed, looking at Steve.

“Yes! You should just let me make fun of you like you make fun of me. That’s what friends are for! You should be making me laugh, what kind of comedian are you? I’m seriously rethinking this representing you thing.”

“Isn’t it a little bit late for that?” Richie smiled, looking around.

There were sitting on a white couch, on a pristine waiting room, not large but well decorated, big windows taking up the most area on one of the walls, a floor Richie could see his face on, and big, classy letters that read VAS Agency on a wall behind them. It was Richie’s first time visiting Steve’s workplace. He had wanted to do it before, but since he would be technically working there too (or for them, or them working for him, whatever), Richie thought it would be best if the first time he came was more like a professional meeting. Then Steve's boss had told him to come and Richie had a panic attack.

Thank God he had Steve already, they knew each other and Steve knew how Richie’s mind worked. If Richie had to do this for himself he would’ve never gotten that far. But Steve coached him into what to do and what to expect. It was true he had most of the work done, the people in the agency liked him already, and his soon-to-be agent was his best friend, but that didn’t mean Richie couldn’t fuck things up, and he was an expert of fucking things up.

“Steve, Marion will see you guys now,” the assistant called, offering them an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the wait. You know how these things are.”

They had been waiting for almost an hour, but that also had to do with them getting there twenty minutes earlier. The first thing Steve made clear, after making Richie prepare a resume and get headshots taken (“you never know, Tozier, just get them!”), was to always be on time. So for Richie that meant get out of home an hour earlier just in case shit happens. Sometimes his anxiety was really useful.

It also helped that Steve managed to make conversation with him during the whole time without never mentioning, not even once, the interview he was about to have. Of course, it wasn’t hard making Richie get his mind out of the job thing, Steve just had to mention Eddie. It wasn’t difficult to get Richie’s mind out of anything by just mentioning Eddie, but it was still a nice gesture and Richie appreciated it.

“Thanks, Pete,” Steve smiled back at the assistant, patting Richie’s back. “You ready?”

“Sure, yeah,” Richie nodded, looking at his hand and counting with his fingers. “I go in there, I talk really loud and don’t let them ask anything, I tell them they better not waste my precious time and to just come see my show if they have any other questions. Right?”

“Nailed it. Let’s go.”

His hands were shaking when he sat in front of Marion, but he had a smile on his face. They shook hands and Richie complimented the decoration of her office. Steve looked at him like a proud father. He was present during the whole meeting but he didn’t say much, he mostly let Marion ask questions and Richie talk too. She asked for his resume and also if he happened to have some headshots too. Steve had that ‘I told you so’ face Richie was so used to see when he handed her the envelope with the pictures.

“You have very distinctive features. I think you’d look well on-screen,” Marion said, and it made Richie feel all flustered. “We don’t handle those kind of calls yet, but I’m sure we’ll get to it. And I’d have your headshots ready by then.”

“It’s the first time someone has said I have distinctive features, and I’m going to pretend that means you think I’m handsome, so I’m satisfied already,” Richie said, making her laugh. He counted that as a win. They were interested in a comedian after all, right?

She asked a lot of questions, more than Richie had expected, but it didn’t feel like an interrogation, more like a talk with a friend you had lost contact with a long time ago. Richie asked some things too, Steve said that would make him look like he was really interested in working with them. Richie mostly wanted to know which cities they had contact with, and how big were the possibilities on ending up in any of them.

“So far we have contact with people from Denver, Minneapolis, Boston, and Phoenix,” Marion said. Fucking Phoenix. “We’re trying to get San Francisco too, if you’re thinking about staying here. Maybe Sacramento as well. But that’s still in the making.”

“Oh, I have no intentions to stay here, you can send me wherever you want,” Richie smiled. “In fact, I’d like to get as far from here as possible.”

Marion smiled, like she knew something Richie didn’t, which was probably true in a lot of ways, and then she looked at Steve. He had the same smile, and Richie wondered if he had just walked into a cult and they were planning to murder him and do stand-up with a puppet made of his skin. Marion got up and offered Richie her hand.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Tozier. It’s going to be a pleasure working together.”

*

Richie was excited. Nothing had really happened yet, he still had his stupid job at The Spot for a good few weeks before the month ended, but he had a good feeling about the new project. He trusted Steve, he would never let Richie down, and Marion had seemed a really nice person to work with too, nothing like Mr. Bartlow. He would miss the guys from the crew and the staff, of course, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt like leaving California was the right thing to do.

He opened his door and walked past the front door with the biggest smile on his face, smile that went huge when he saw Eddie waiting for him in the leaving room, all dressed up, devilishly handsome, looking at him with a wicked smile. Richie gave him a questioning look.

“Why don’t you put on something fancier?” Eddie asked, walking towards Richie and putting his hands on his chest. Richie looked good, but it screamed business.

“Are we going somewhere? Did something happen?” Richie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wait. Did Steve tell you?”

“Tell me what?” And now it was Eddie’s face to look surprised.

“They want me. I mean, I already knew that, but they met me and they really want me, and they said they were going to start working on something cool for me already. So, I’m on the road to be famous, baby!” Richie joked, laughing and kissing Eddie’s forehead when he got close enough.

“I knew you’d nail it,” Eddie looked up smiling. “But that’s not what I wanted to celebrate, although we can add it too,” he said, stopping Richie when he was ready to ask again. “Just go change. We have a reservation at eight.”

Richie wanted to keep asking questions but he also wanted to already be gone and having dinner at whatever place Eddie had chosen, so he just made a face and ran to his room, opening the closet and going through it to pick the best clothes he had. He wished he had better clothes. He never really cared about dressing up and now it seemed impossible matching with Eddie. He had a blazer, just the one, he had worn maybe twice from where he thought he could be that kind of stand-up comedian. It was better than any other option, so he wore that, along with a turtleneck and jeans, and the less worn out shoes he had.

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Eddie said when Richie came out again, but he checked him out too, Richie saw it.

They rode to the place in silence, with just the soft sound of music filling up the air. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was more like an expectant one. Richie wanted to know what they were celebrating but he didn’t want to ruin it asking Eddie questions all the time, so he just shut up. The silence was comfortable enough but he felt like a kid hiding at night waiting for Santa to come down the chimney.

When they finally arrived, a valet asked for the car keys and wished him a wonderful evening. Richie looked at Eddie, making a face. So that was fancy. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand going in but he wasn’t sure if he should, so he didn’t, he just pushed his hands in his pockets and walked. Eddie said his name when they asked for the reservation and then they were walked to their table, where Eddie asked for a fine wine almost immediately. Richie whistled when the waiter left and they were left alone, looking around.

“It’s not that much. I just wanted to have a nice dinner at a nice place, and this seemed nice enough,” Eddie shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot of time to make a reservation either, I just found out this morning I… So I called every place I could think of and picked up the first one who wasn’t already booked up.”

“It’s perfect, Eddie. Too perfect, I would say. I feel a little out of place here,” Richie chuckled, but really feeling somehow self-conscious.

“We have every right to be here,” Eddie replied. “We could be wearing our pajamas and still have the right to be here. Although I think they do have a dress code, but anyway. I only told you to dress up for selfish reasons.”

“Mr. Kaspbrak? Are you trying to seduce me?” Richie batted his eyelashes and touched his chest, faking shock. Eddie laughed.

“I hope it’s working,” he answered, looking down and the menu with a warm smile. It made Richie feel giddy.

They ordered some fancy food, or Eddie did. Richie was too nervous to think, so he asked Eddie to order for him too. That was a bad call, of course, because Eddie being Eddie started rambling about what Richie would like best and what was tastier and what Richie already liked and what he hadn’t tried yet. After a good twenty minutes Richie just said he would have whatever Eddie was having and the conversation was over.

“If you don’t like it it’s not my fault,” Eddie warned when the food arrived.

“Dude, have you seen what I usually eat?” Richie laughed, looking at their plates. It looked delicious. “I just cook because of you. If I had just to feed myself I’d just have cold pizza and mac and cheese.”

They started eating, and Richie told Eddie about his meeting at the agency, how everything went really well and he felt comfortable with them. He never thought he could come that far in comedy, and just thinking about people asking for him by name (even if those people were friends with Steve) was crazy. He was good at it. Steve had said it, the crew at The Spot had said it, even Eddie had said it, but only now was Richie beginning to believe it.

“I’m really happy for you…” Eddie said, looking down at his food and poking at it with his fork. “Do you know already where can you be sent to?”

“They said they had contacts in Denver, Minneapolis, Boston, and Phoenix, so I guess I could end up in any of those places.”

“Boston?” Eddie’s face lightened up, looking at Richie. “Do you think you could go to Boston?”

“Anything could be possible,” Richie said, but he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He knew where Eddie was going and as much as he’d like it to be that way, it wasn’t that simple. “The thing is, this isn't a regular job, Eds. There will be casting calls here and there, and I will show up hoping they like me, and then, if they like me, they will sign me, maybe for a month, maybe for a year, you never know.”

“What about New York, then?” Eddie asked, his fork still poking at the food so repeatedly he was poking at the plate now. “I mean, there’s a lot of stand-up there. There should be more opportunities, right?”

“I can’t get a job as a stand-up comedian in New York, Eds,” Richie laughed, shaking his head. “I’m a nobody. Do you know how many awesome comedians are in New York?”

“You’re an awesome comedian too.”

“Eddie, you have no idea how difficult it would be to…”

“Well, you can try, right?!” Eddie raised his voice, loud enough for people around to look at them. He lowered his face, his cheeks getting red. “I just… It’s not that crazy. You go to New York and just…”

“Hey. Eds. Why don’t we…” Richie moved his hands, trying to brush all of that off. “Let’s talk about something else, huh? What about your good news? I thought we were celebrating here!” He smiled. “Come on, just tell me what it is already. If you wait ‘till the desserts I’m going to think you’re proposing,” he joked, but a lump installed in his throat when Eddie looked at him even more distressed than before.

“I… Uh. My office called. They’re, uh, really happy with me,” Eddie started, fidgeting with his fork. “I finished my job here even earlier than they expected, and they said… Well, they’re promoting me, or hiring me, actually, since… Whatever, the thing is I’m not an intern anymore and now as soon as I sign the contract I’ll have like, this awesome job I’m really good at and it comes with a really good health insurance and the salary is crazy and… shit, I don’t even know what I’m going to do with that amount of money,” he chuckled, shrugging. “I know Myra would tell me to look at some real estate already, but fuck Myra, right? Although that may be a good option, like, I’m not that far from 30, I’m old enough to buy a house even if I don’t really…”

“Eddie,” Richie stopped him, moving a hand on the table to hold one of Eddie’s. Eddie looked down at their hands and then up at Richie. Richie smiled. “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you. You deserve this.”

Eddie sighed and smiled too, turning his hand around to properly hold Richie’s, tightening the grip.

“There’s something else, though,” Eddie said, letting out a deep breath and looking at Richie with a concerned face. “They want me to go back home already. They want me there as soon as possible, so they’re changing my flight.”

Richie heard the words but his brain had trouble understanding the meaning. He could only look at Eddie’s eyes, big and brown and so worried. Richie licked his lips, feeling the blood draining from his face.

“When are you leaving?” He managed to ask, although his voice couldn’t reach every sound.

“I told them I needed to manage some things, so they’re flying me back in two days.”

Richie felt cold. It was like Eddie’s words were sucking his life out of him. He knew this would happen, he knew Eddie would have to leave and he knew he had to prepare for it, but this? Richie didn’t know how to handle this.

“Eddie, I…”

“I want you to come with me,” Eddie said, firm and hard, squeezing Richie’s hand. Richie felt it like an electric shock. He wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what. “I know it’s a lot. I know you don’t even know me that much and this can seem crazy but… Just come with me. Try your thing there. You’re good, Richie, you’re awesome, you could get an agent there and be the biggest you can be and… and in the meantime, you’ll stay with me…”

“I can’t be a trophy wife, Eddie…”

“What the fuck does that even mean, trophy wife?” Eddie let out a nervous laugh. “Would it be that bad if I provided for you? For-For fucking both of us? Would it be that different from what you’ve been doing? I’ve been staying at your house almost all the time, and you’ve given me anything I needed! I can do the same for you!”

“Eddie, I don’t…”

“Come with me. Richie, please. Just come with me.”


	11. It's happening

When Richie was a teenage boy, lying in the bed and watching his old and tiny TV, he never thought he would accomplish much in his life. Yes, he wanted to do a lot of things, he wanted to be like those famous comedians inside the old box, he wanted to be successful, he wanted to be recognized, he wanted to find someone to love him for who he was and to be by his side, he wanted to be the kind of happy his dad was, with a happy marriage and a good job and an okay son, maybe. He wanted that, but he didn’t think he could get it.

Somehow he always thought having a normal life wasn’t for him, like finding love and having a successful career was something unattainable for him, like being happy was not something he could just achieve. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe something happened before, back when he was a kid, back in those times Richie didn’t remember. Maybe back then something awful happened and taught him he wasn’t like everyone else, and he never would be.

He was destined for tragedy.

When Richie and Eddie went back from the restaurant to Richie’s home they drove in silence. They skipped dessert and just left. The things they needed to talk about were better to discuss intimately. Richie fought back tears, talking to himself, saying it wasn’t the end of the world, no matter how much it felt like it. They held hands when they got out of the car and they never let go, not when they got in the house, not when they sat on the couch.

“I’m… so sorry, Eddie,” Richie whispered. Eddie squeezed his hand and nodded, bringing said hand to his lips to kiss it.

“I understand,” Eddie said.

Maybe he did understand. Richie did not. He did not understand why he had to choose, why the world would offer him happiness on a silver plate just to take it away from him in the most painful way. He couldn’t go with Eddie even if he wanted to, not when he had just signed with Steve’s agency and they had started to work on the future of his career. It wasn’t fair. Steve was his best friend and he had left his job for Richie, because of Richie, and knowing Richie would follow him and they would start their new career together.

“I just… if you had said something before…” Richie tried to say something, but Eddie shook his head, touching Richie’s face.

“It was selfish of me to ask you, Richie. I’m sorry,” Eddie said, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. “I still love you. That won’t change. Nothing will change that. Okay?”

“I hate this.”

He hated it, with all his heart. The moment Eddie closed the distance between them and kissed him, he started crying, knowing there was no way he could stop. He grabbed Eddie’s shirt and kissed him back, tears falling down his cheeks. He really, really hated it. He wanted to ask Eddie to stay, he wanted to tell him he would go with him, he wanted to say they could try a long-distance relationship, he wanted to save it, whatever was between them, Richie wanted to save it, but every stupid idea he had, his brain would come out with a downside for it. Of course he couldn’t ask Eddie to stay, not when he had achieved everything he had been wanting since he started working for his company. Richie couldn’t go with Eddie either, he had to stay, he owned Steve that much. Steve had been his only friend for the longest time, way before he was hired to perform at The Spot, back when he was just a dumb kid taking improvisation classes. He couldn’t ditch Steve like that, make him lose his job. It would be backstabbing.

“We can make it work,” Eddie said against Richie’s lips. 

Richie didn’t know about that either. Could they make it work? Richie in L.A. and Eddie in Queens, or Richie in whatever city he ended up, not really having much time to talk because Eddie would work in the morning and Richie would perform in the evenings, finding a five minute break to call and ask how everything is going just to hang up again, not being able to touch, not being able to see each other, not being able to just… share their lives. Could he do that to Eddie? Could he ask him to put his life on hold like that for him? He was sure there was a lot of nice guys in Queens, much better than him. Eddie deserved something better than a phone call a day.

“You deserve so much more, Eddie,” he tried to make him understand.

“I only want you,” Eddie said, smiling and touching Richie’s face. “Just you. I’ll be happy just knowing you’re there. I’ll be happy as long as you… as you remember me.”

“Why would I forget?”

Eddie shook his head and kissed him again, and Richie forgot about the question as soon as he felt Eddie’s hands moving down and sneaking under his sweater, holding his waist and deepening in the kiss. Richie moved his hands up, touching Eddie’s cheeks, cupping his face. He tasted so sweet Richie wanted to spend the rest of his life right there. He felt a couple of tears running down his cheeks. Shit, his eyes hurt.

“Don’t be sad,” Eddie said when he moved away, bringing up a hand to brush the tears off Richie’s face. “Come on, we have a lot to celebrate.”

“Like we never seeing each other again?” Richie asked sarcastically.

“Like us finding each other,” Eddie answered, holding Richie’s hand and standing up, pulling at him. “What were the odds of me finding you here? And finding you like _this?”_

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Richie smiled. “_Like this_.”

“Like, you know, doing your thing, being a comedian, looking… good,” Eddie chuckled, looking up, “and so fucking tall.”

“Is that a good thing?” Richie laughed, frowning. “And why do you say it like that, like you had… met me before?”

Eddie didn’t answer for a few seconds, he just looked at Richie worrying at his bottom lip insistently, nervously. It almost felt awkward, standing up in the middle of Richie’s living room, in silence. Richie tried to read Eddie’s face, whatever he was hiding, whatever he was not telling Richie.

“Would it be too crazy to think we have?” Eddie asked then.

“You mean like, in another life?” Richie asked. Was that it? Was Eddie just embarrassed he believed in those mystical things?

“Something like that, yeah,” Eddie nodded, looking down for a second.

Richie thought about it.

“I think… if there are other lives, past or future, I’m sure I still manage to find you in those too,” he said, opening a sad smile. “And I really hope in some of them I get to keep you too, I mean… it’s such a shame I’m going to have to say good bye to that ass.”

“Richie!” Eddie laughed, and Richie did too, just because seeing Eddie laugh was enough for him to feel happy. “You can’t miss something you never had,” Eddie replied and laughed harder when Richie opened his eyes wide, utterly shocked.

“Oh, burn!” Richie laughed, still shocked. “So mean, Edward!”

“Am I? Shit… And here I was thinking about maybe changing that…” Eddie replied, giving Richie a wondering look, like he was expecting Richie’s reaction. Richie raised an eyebrow.

“You mean, you…” He didn’t finished the question, Eddie’s face was enough.

“I just. I don’t wanna leave without…” Eddie started, fighting to get the words out.

“You know it doesn’t matter, right? Like, it doesn’t make a difference if we… fuck or not,” Richie blurted out.

“Dude! So explicit…” Eddie looked away and chuckled, his cheeks getting red.

“Oh sorry, gramma,” Richie scoffed. “It is what we’re talking about. We’re talking about fucking!”

“It is not! You don’t need to say it like _that!_”

“What? Do you want me to call it _making love_ or some cheesy thing like that?” Richie asked. It was kind of amusing to see Eddie getting more and more flustered.

“No! That’s… even worse.”

“Then why is the word fuck so bad? It’s pretty self-explanatory, it’s clear and simple, it’s an awesome word, Eds. You should really appreciate more the complexity of the English language. Not everybody can say they have a word like―”

“Fine! Fine, okay! Yes. I’m talking about fucking. I’m talking about you _fucking me_. I want you to _fuck_ me before I leave. I want you to fucking… _feel_ you inside me, I want you so deep inside I can’t forget about it even when I’m back in Queens. I want you to fuck me, _hard_. Is that clean and simple enough for you?”

Richie hadn’t noticed he had opened his mouth and was now looking at Eddie with probably the dumbest expression on his face, unable to find words to express everything that was going on in his head in that exact moment.

“Sorry, I… uh.” He tried. He really tried. “I mean, I… I was crying a minute ago, and now I’m getting so hard the blood flow in my brain is minimum, so my body doesn’t know what’s going on and it’s trying to function as best as it can with what I’m giving it.” Richie explained and Eddie laughed, lowering his head. “That was… so hot.”

“Richie, shut up.” Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“Jesus, I’m gonna miss this too,” Richie sighed with a warm smile, holding Eddie’s face with both of his hands to look at him. “The bickering and the stupid arguments and your short temper… I’m gonna miss all of you.”

“Are you sure you can’t…” Eddie started, but he stopped, rephrasing whatever he was going to say. “Just promise you’ll try to come as soon as you can. Maybe New York is not easy but Boston is not a bad option. And, just remember you’ll be always welcome. As soon as I have my own home, you can knock on my door any day, any time… except, you know, if I’m out at work or having dinner or something.”

Richie laughed, hugging Eddie, pushing his nose through his hair.

“Look at you, making awful jokes.”

“I learned from the worst.”

*

They just went to sleep that night. Richie hadn’t forgot about what Eddie had said (he doubted he could ever forget those words), but they were too tired, mentally exhausted, a lot had happened and they weren’t fully there to do anything else apart from resting. Richie covered themselves with clean fresh sheets (one of the good things of having Eddie home was getting clean sheets every other day) and hugged Eddie closer, making him rest his head on his chest, legs tangled together.

The morning after the sunlight coming from the window woke Richie up. He had forgotten to lower the blinds the night before, so the whole bedroom was illuminated, so bright it was almost blinding. He looked down at Eddie by his side, still sleeping, his arm over Richie’s waist, holding him. Richie closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. He wanted to enjoy it. Those few minutes of pure happiness and joy, alone together, like nothing else existed. He opened his eyes again, observing, touching Eddie’s arm with the tip of his fingers and slowly moving them down from Eddie’s shoulder to his hand, watching him get little goosebumps and shivering in his sleep.

He then touched Eddie’s face, the roundness of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his pursed lips. Eddie had always a somewhat worried expression in his sleep, like not even in dreams he fully allowed himself to let go. Richie kissed his forehead and Eddie made a throaty noise, moving and getting closer to Richie. He moved his head too, up, so Richie took what he was given and kissed Eddie’s lips, softly, warm.

Eddie responded almost immediately, groaning and opening his lips, grabbing Richie’s shirt and pulling at him. Richie smiled and kissed him again. Almost asleep Eddie Kaspbrak was much bolder than his usual self and Richie liked that. He wanted Eddie to feel free enough to be whoever he wanted to be, to do whatever he wanted to do.

“Good morning,” Richie said when he moved a little away, looking at Eddie’s sleepy but open eyes. Eddie wrinkled his nose, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Could be better,” he said, his voice still hoarse from the sleep.

“Is that so?” Richie smiled, and Eddie just nodded, pulling at him again.

“Yup. You could keep kissing me.”

Well, Richie wasn’t going to argue that. So he just did, because he wanted to but especially because Eddie asked him to, and there was nothing in the world better than hearing Eddie ask for something like that. Yes, it was just a kiss, but Richie knew how Eddie always felt like it was selfish to ask for things he really wanted, so he loved it when Eddie felt comfortable enough to speak his mind with him. He wanted Eddie to be selfish for a change.

He wondered what he could manage to make Eddie ask for.

But for now, Richie just kissed him. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s cheeks, Eddie’s jawline and Eddie’s neck. Little kisses and soft kisses and hard kisses and wet kisses. Eddie moved under him, swaying like leaves caught in the wind. His fingers found Richie’s hair, tangling in them and pulling Richie down, but Richie resisted this time. He kissed Eddie’s lips, biting them softly.

“What is it? What do you want?” he asked, low and breathy, not a hint of teasing. He wanted Eddie to know this was something he shouldn’t be ashamed of.

“You know what I want,” Eddie replied, looking up at Richie with full blown eyes, so much want in them it made Richie’s legs weak.

“I know, but I want to hear you say it,” he whispered. “Please,” he added to make Eddie sure it was not a command on his part, it was a plea. “Anything you want, Eds, anything. Just say it and I’ll do it.”

“Kiss me,” Eddie asked, and right before Richie’s lips could touch Eddie’s he put a hand on Richie’s chest to stop him, adding: “Lower,” with a wolfish smile. Richie really started to think this whole ‘helping Eddie not to be ashamed of his desires’ was more like Richie trying to get Eddie to order him around. “And touch me,” Eddie said, kind of rough.

Well. New kink unlocked.

(_Who are you kidding, Tozier, you were always hot for a bossy Eddie_)

Richie did. He kissed down Eddie’s neck, putting his hands on Eddie’s waist and pushing up his shirt, touching every inch of the new exposed skin. Eddie took his shirt off, arching to meet Richie’s lips when his mouth roamed through Eddie’s chest, catching his nipples, biting softly while he scratched Eddie’s sides with the back of his nails, not too hard but enough to make him gasp.

It made Richie a little bit nervous, or maybe not just a little. Just seeing how responsive Eddie was to everything he did put too much pressure on him, wanting to do it the best he could, to make it good for Eddie. Richie knew this time wasn’t like the others, not only because what Eddie had said the night before, but because he could feel it. And somehow, although it wasn’t the first time for him, it kind of felt like that. He felt like back when he was a teenager and he didn’t know what to do but he wanted to make it good. He was always confident during sex, but he always wanted to make the other person feel good so much sometimes he forgot about himself. This time that was even more important. This time it was Eddie, and Richie didn’t want to fuck it up.

“If I can’t get it up I promise it’s because you intimidate me so fucking much, so bear that in mind,” he joked, because jokes always worked, right? He sat up to take off his own shirt. Eddie opened his eyes, laughing.

“Wow, and I thought I was the unromantic one,” Eddie teased him, and Richie really appreciated he was trying to lighten the mood joking about it, but Richie could only think about how different they both looked and how hot Eddie was and… shit, was that the outline of Eddie’s cock under his pajama bottoms? Jesus Christ, Richie’s blood was fighting to stay in his brain but his boner was demanding bitch and, honestly, why would Eddie want to have his first time with someone like him?

“You know we don’t have to do this if you―”

“I want to,” Eddie interrupted, looking at Richie. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No. No, I just…”

No. Come on, Richie. Get your shit together.

It was so him, wanting something really bad, fighting to get it and then, right when he had it in front of him, stop to consider if he really deserved it. Was he really allowed happiness or was it just another way to end up feeling miserable? If you don’t have anything, you can’t lose anything.

Richie shook those thoughts off. Really, Richie? Existential crisis in the middle of sex?

He snapped out of it when Eddie pulled him up to kiss him, breathing into him and smiling, looking into Richie’s eyes and getting his cheeks red when he grabbed one of Richie’s hands by his wrist, moving it down to in between his legs, biting his bottom lip hesitantly when he made Richie press his hand to his hard-on. Richie closed his eyes. Shit, he was going to have a heart attack.

“I really want this, Rich.” Eddie whispered, touching Richie’s nose with his. “Can’t you feel how much I want this?”

He could, fuck he could, but suddenly it was like all those times getting stage fright was just a preparation for this. Performance anxiety, fuck him. He was getting sweatier by the second and probably more unattractive too. How could Eddie be turned on by this?

“I’m sorry, I just…” Richie laughed, pushing his hair back and off his face, some locks falling down again. “I really want to make this right and you’re… fuck, so perfect and I don’t know if I’m like… I mean, are you sure you want to do this with me? Because you…” Richie swallowed when Eddie thrusted against his hand in response, letting out a nervous chuckle. “You are fucking beautiful and smart and successful and I’m pretty sure I’m going to start making jokes any second now. Like, I don’t know how I…” Richie choked when Eddie moved his hands to push his pants and underwear down, taking them off, getting completely naked under Richie. Shit. Fuck. “I don’t think I remember how…” he babbled and lost track of his thoughts when Eddie hooked his fingers on the waist band of his pants, pushing down to get him naked too.

“I believe now is when you fuck me,” Eddie said and gave him a determined look, putting his legs around Richie’s waist.

And, well.

“Oh. Fuck. Yes, yeah, okay,” Richie nodded, frantically, moving to open one of the drawers on the bedside table to get a condom and lube. He took the bottle, pouring the shiny liquid on his fingers. “I really hope this is lube and not glue or something, because I can’t see shit right now without glasses, which I’m glad because you’re already too hot when you’re all blurry, I don’t even want to think how you’d look in high definition.”

“_Richie_,” Eddie gave him a warning look, but he laughed.

“I told you! Okay. Okay, no jokes in bed. I―” He cut himself when he pushed two fingers inside Eddie, closing his eyes when he heard him moan. “Fuck. _Fuck_,” he licked his lips, taking a deep breath. “Is that okay?” Richie asked, almost stuttering. Eddie nodded.

“It’s fine. I’ve done that already,” he answered, closed eyes, moving to meet Richie’s fingers when he pushed them in again. “I wanted to… you know, be ready.”

Oh. _Oh_, that was. Uh.

Richie’s brain turned off.

He kissed Eddie again, just because Eddie’s mouth felt like the safest place to be. He felt fucking hungry, biting Eddie’s lips and pushing his whole body against Eddie’s, covering him completely, moving his fingers inside him and trying to block every one of Eddie’s little sounds, the way he gasped, the way he moved. And that thing about not being able to get it up? Yeah, not a problem. Not a problem at all. In fact, Richie was afraid his cock was ready to fucking explode.

Eddie didn’t stop moving. His hands were everywhere, down Richie’s back, through Richie’s hair, digging his nails on Richie’s ass cheeks, pushing him closer, wanting more of him, always more, like he couldn’t get enough. Richie saw him take the condom and thought, yeah, it’s about time, what the hell.

“You ready?” He whispered, or mostly gasped, against Eddie’s mouth, bending his fingers inside Eddie and pressing in the right place to make him shudder, feeling Eddie’s cock leaking in between their bodies. Eddie nodded, looking at Richie hesitantly.

“I get a full check-up every three months,” Eddie said quickly, making Richie frown. What? “And I get blood test every month because I’m a freak. You know that already. Also, I’ve never had sex before. And if you had any STD I already exposed myself every time I’ve sucked your cock, so…” Richie opened his eyes wide. Wait… “Can we do it without this?”

Richie looked at the condom in Eddie’s hand, then at Eddie.

“_Wut?”_ God, his face must have looked so dumb. Eddie laughed.

“I want you to, uh,” Eddie chuckled, getting a little bit red. “I want to feel _you_. So, unless you really think it wouldn’t be safe, I…”

“Yeah. Yes, I totally,” Richie nodded, taking the condom from Eddie’s hand and throwing it away. “Fuck that. I’m super healthy. I’m the healthiest motherfucker you’ve ever met, you know?” He said, trying not to look as nervous as he actually was. “I actually got tested not too long ago, because I had a weird rash and I freaked out and…”

“Okay, Richie, I trust you,” Eddie laughed, biting his bottom lip.

“No, no, really. I’m healthy as hell.” Richie laughed too. “Getting fucked by me will actually be like getting vaccinated with a… meat syringe.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie covered his face, laughing. “_Beep-beep_, Richie,” he said, chuckling, and Richie just…

Stopped.

They were inches apart and the warmth of Eddie’s body was making Richie burn. He could feel every touch, every bit of skin touching skin, the sweat gathering where it was too hot. The atmosphere was inviting. Hell, Eddie’s body inviting, but Richie just couldn’t. He couldn’t close the distance and keep going like nothing happened, because something happened, only he didn’t know what.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked and his voice was still smooth, like his skin, like the air flowing in between their bodies.

“I just…” Richie closed his eyes and laughed, short and kind of rasp. He didn’t know. He couldn’t explain the pressure on his chest. He couldn’t tell Eddie he just lost the ability to touch him all of the sudden while also… “Uh.”

He was in love with Eddie.

Utterly, madly, desperately, irremediably.

_In love_.

And right there Richie understood no matter how far Eddie could go, no matter if he never saw Eddie again, that could never change. Their connection was deeper than Richie could begin to comprehend. And those words, for some reason, Eddie’s words, had something to do with it. Richie’s brain hurt.

“What was that? What you said…” Richie asked, and only then he realized he had kept his eyes closed all this time. He opened them back again.

_How the fuck are you so beautiful._

_Who are you?_

“What? Beep-beep?” Eddie smiled like a kid who realized he had said something naughty. “It’s just a stupid thing.”

“It isn’t,” Richie replied, shaking his head.

It wasn’t. Richie was sure of that. But looking at Eddie he realized maybe he couldn’t explain it either. After all, it was really difficult for Richie to explain how he felt, so he decided maybe their bodies could communicate better.

Richie let himself go, kissing Eddie and hooking one of his arms under Eddie’s waist, lifting him up to press their bodies together, shaking when he moved his lips down Eddie’s jaw, opening them to suck and kiss and bite Eddie’s neck, below his ear. He guided himself to push inside Eddie, teasing with his fingers first, touching so he could feel Eddie opening up for him, accepting him, _wanting_ him.

Slow. He moved as slowly as he could, watching Eddie closely, every expression, everything that came out of his lips. But Eddie just breathed in and out, his lips red and shiny from biting them so much, so inviting Richie couldn’t help but kiss him, licking inside his mouth, swallowing Eddie’s moans when he bottomed out.

“Okay?” Richie asked, and he hoped Eddie understood he wasn’t able to make full sentences right now. Eddie nodded, swallowing down. “Can I move?” He asked again, and this time Eddie answered moving himself, just a little, just to make Richie slide out and push him back inside.

Well, fuck. Okay.

It burned, every place in Eddie’s body burned when Richie touched him, burned outside and burned inside, and Richie thought maybe it was because Eddie’s blood was boiling just like his. So he moved, because otherwise he would catch on fire, holding Eddie’s hips up, digging his fingers in, kissing him, fucking him. Slowly. Slowly. He didn’t want to hurt Eddie not matter how much he felt like he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t thrust hard and fast and bury himself inside Eddie’s body. He fucked him slowly, steady, driving himself crazy, but driving Eddie crazy too. And, God, those moans were totally worth it.

But of course he couldn’t keep that up for long, Richie was a human after all, and Eddie arched and met Richie’s hips with every thrust and said his name so fucking sweetly, so smooth, like dripping down his spit shiny lips. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It was too much. So kisses turned into bites, nails started scratching skin, and Richie sank into Eddie’s body with all the adrenaline he had been bottling up. Eddie’s moans turned into gasps, fucking the air out of his lungs with every thrust, and just hearing him chant ‘yes, yes, yes, yes’ was enough to bring Richie to the edge.

“Fuck, Eds, you’re gonna make me come,” Richie groaned, looking down when their bodies met, looking up at Eddie’s face, with his eyes closed and his lips open and his cheeks red, almost obscene.

“Don’t you dare,” Eddie warned him, opening his eyes and giving him a deadly look. “Don’t you dare come before I do.”

“So bossy,” Richie chuckled, but he knew Eddie was serious (he could feel it in his cock) so he changed the angle to hit the right spot, making Eddie shiver and hold Richie closer. He needed to pull every trick he had because there was no way he could last a lot longer. He kissed Eddie’s jaw, biting his earlobe and whispering. “What is it, baby? Are you afraid to enjoy it a little too much?” He breathed out, leaving an open mouthed kiss below Eddie’s ear. “Coming inside you, feeling it dripping down when I pull out.”

“_Fuck you_,” Eddie gritted his teeth, closing his eyes and tightening his jaw, but he couldn’t hide how his cock twitched. Richie opened a wolfish smile, kissing Eddie’s cheek.

“What? Is that not dirty enough for you, Eds?” He asked, his movements speeding up, his mouth brushing Eddie’s skin. “What if I promise to lick you clean after? Would you let me come inside you?”

Eddie let out a strangled “fuck”, shaking and holding onto Richie with one hand while he pushed the other in between their bodies, fisting his cock until he spilled all over himself. Richie didn’t stop moving, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t watch the picture under him because he didn’t want to come yet, bearing the way Eddie’s body contracted around him.

“You’re so fucking _filthy,_ Richie…” Eddie breathed out, his chest moving up and down, his body limp on the bed, but his eyes, God, his eyes were full of everything.

“I know,” Richie nodded, kissing him hard and fast with a satisfied smile. “And you love it,” he added, moving to pull out and finish already, because his cock was crying for mercy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie held him in place, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “I do love it,” he said, sure and bolder than Richie had ever seen him, pushing him down and raising his hips to meet Richie’s thrust. Richie almost choked at the wave of pleasure that hit him, trying to make his brain work just to ask, just in case.

“Are you s―”

“I want you to come inside me, Rich,” Eddie cut him, looking at him like it wasn’t some kind of permission, it was a fucking command. Richie fisted the sheets and kissed Eddie hard and went completely crazy. He held Eddie as close as he could, wanting to feel every inch of skin against his skin, looking at Eddie like he was something out of this world, biting Eddie’s shoulder when he finally came, closing his eyes and seeing fucking fireworks under his eyelids.

He fell hard on top of Eddie, like a dead man, exhausted and out of his mind, unable to process anything that had happened and pretty sure some of the wetness he felt dripping down his hair was not just sweat and actually some of his liquefied brain running out of his ears. He moved enough to let Eddie breath again, falling on his side.

“Well… that was a nice way to start the day,” he said, trying to catch his breath, looking at Eddie with half a tired smile. “Sadly I don’t think I can walk anymore. But hey, let’s do it again sometime.”

“I should make you go running with me in the mornings,” Eddie laughed, and Richie knew he must have had the most stupid face but, honestly, a sweaty, disheveled, flushed, and smiley Eddie Kaspbrak? The prettiest thing Richie had ever seen in his life.

“Over my dead body, Kaspbrak,” Richie breathed deep in and out. Shit, he was really out of shape. “So. That was fucking amazing,” he didn’t ask, because it was an understatement. Eddie laughed, making a face.

“It was. If I had known I was missing this I wouldn’t h― RICHIE OH MY GOD!” Eddie nearly screamed, making Richie jump.

“What?? What is it?!”

“It’s really happening!! Like…” Eddie blinked a couple of times like he didn’t know what was happening, or maybe that was only Richie, looking at Richie and batting his hands. “It’s… _dripping out!”_

“What? What is…? _Oh,_” Richie understood. And immediately burst out laughing.

“What the fuck are you laughing at??”

“Dude, what did you expect? Did you think it would… _stay inside?”_ Richie asked, his eyes filling with tears from all the laughing. Eddie’s face was hilarious.

“I don’t know!! I just… God, it feels so…”

“Gross?” Richie guessed, a playful smile still on his faced. Eddie looked at him with a weirded out face.

“… Yeah. But,” Eddie shook his head, like he didn’t understand. “Shit, why is it turning me on?”

“Is it?” Richie’s eyebrows flew up. “Wait, again?” Eddie looked at him, biting the side of his bottom lip with a guilty face.

“I guess I have a lot to catch up on with this.” Eddie shrugged, pushing Richie and getting on top of him. “How long until you can go again?”

“I’ve created a monster.”

*

Maybe it wasn’t the more mature thing to do, spending one of Eddie’s last two days in bed, just kissing and touching and giggling and moaning, exploring themselves, discovering themselves, going places they’ve never dared to go, but then again, Richie couldn’t think of a better thing to do. He felt like he was robbed of days of intimacy with Eddie, and he intended to get as much as he could. Also, it felt fucking awesome to call his job to resign just so he could go back to bed to keep… making love.

Making love, Jesus. That was it, wasn’t it? They weren’t even fucking. They were _making love_, what a pair of saps. But it was okay, right? To be a little sap, especially when the love of your life is leaving and you have no fucking idea when you’ll see him again (if you’d see him again). Richie didn’t hold anything back. When he wanted to touch, he touched, when he wanted to kiss, he kissed, and when he wanted to whisper sweet nothings, to count Eddie’s freckles, to trace invisible patterns on his skin, to _love,_ when he wanted to love, he just loved.

“Are you trying to make me so weak I can’t leave the bed, so I can’t go?” Eddie asked with a soft smile while Richie left little kisses across his face.

“That’s not a bad idea at all,” Richie considered, smiling when Eddie put a hand on his face, brushing some hair behind his ear.

“I will try to travel as much as I can to wherever you end up living,” Eddie said, almost whispering, like it was a secret. “And my company has branches in other cities, other states too, I think. It shouldn’t be that difficult to… meet again.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, ignoring the part of his brain that told them how vast America was. “It shouldn’t be.”

“You’ll need to keep me posted, call when you move cities…”

“I’m going to call you every fucking day, Eddie, don’t you doubt that.”

“Yeah, you say so now, but with work and everything―”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Richie cut him with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Eddie. I… I want a life with you. I have never been surer of anything, ever. And I know it might seem too soon, but it doesn’t really feel soon at all. It feels like I’ve been waiting for ages,” he tried to explain, hoping Eddie wouldn’t think he was crazy. He took Eddie’s hand in his. “You feel like the kind of person I’d love to go back home to, like someone I’d just cuddle under the covers and sleep tangled with, someone to go grocery shopping and watch dumb TV and… paint a nursery room together,” he said, feeling like his chest was going to burst if he didn’t let it all out. “I feel like I know you. Not your face or your name, but deep down, inside, like there’s something in me that only functions when you’re close, because there’s something in you that belongs to me.”

“Me too,” Eddie gave him a sad smile, and his eyes were shiny when he closed them. “Everything you said. Me too.”

Richie didn’t know what to do.

The ghost of Eddie leaving wouldn’t let him fully enjoy every second spent together. He thought maybe by the time they got closer to the actual time Eddie would have to take the flight he would have gotten used to the idea of Eddie leaving, of not seeing him every day, of just hearing him through the phone line. But it wasn’t like that at all. It was the total opposite. The longer Richie spent time with Eddie the harder it became just letting him go. He caught himself looking at the clock all the time, afraid of the hands moving, seconds passing faster than they should.

He wanted to be able to stop time, not forever, but just a few days, maybe just a few hours. Didn’t he deserve a few more hours with Eddie? It looked like he didn’t, because no matter how hard he wished for it, the sun set at the same hour as the day before, and they had dinner in silence because Richie didn’t know what to say. He cooked Eddie’s favorite dish, and then they watched a movie together. They snuggled on the couch and Richie held Eddie tight, so tight, like that would make him stay somehow. What a fucking fool.

“Let’s do something fun tomorrow. Let’s go out. We can have a nice lunch, go visit some place I haven’t seen yet, and maybe you can come with me to my hotel and help me pack the things I left there.”

“Sure,” Richie smiled, knowing he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t help Eddie pack things up.

Richie couldn’t sleep that night, no matter how hard he tried. He just looked at Eddie by his side and thought of how he wouldn’t be able to enjoy this for much longer, so of course he decided he wouldn’t enjoy it now either. It was so much better to just stay awake, wallowing in his misery, until his eyes gave out and he fell asleep exhausted.

Next morning he hated himself, also he looked like shit. But Eddie still took him by the hand and forced him out of bed, going for breakfast first thing and then to the closest store to buy a disposable camera. “I’m going to look gorgeous,” Richie joked before Eddie snapped the first picture of both of them. He hoped the shitty quality of the camera helped hide his dark circles and red eyes.

Eddie wanted to create memories. “I just want you to remember me while I’m gone,” he said, and Richie bit his tongue not to say there would be nothing like having Eddie there, not a shitty picture, not a ton, but Eddie looked excited, so he said he remembered Kyle taking some photos the night they were at the bar together, so maybe they were in some of them (although he was sure most of them would be pictures of Steve).

“I can ask Kyle,” Steve said when Richie talked about it. “I’m pretty sure he snapped a few of both of you, although there are some others where you and Mark look _pretty intimate_,” Steve pointed out with a smug smile. Richie rolled his eyes.

“Shit, I had forgotten about that dude…” He said, making a face. “Ask Kyle anyway. Any picture would be fine, even if we’re just in the background. We took a picture of our lunch. I guess he wants me to remember him every time I eat a sandwich. The shitty thing is I probably will,” Richie sighed. “I’ll look at any food and think of him and I won’t be able to eat at all and I’ll die. Way to go. Richie Tozier, comedian, died of lovesickness.”

“Didn’t you want to have a tragic death so everyone would love you and you’d become famous?” Steve asked. “I think dying of love is tragic enough. You know, pretty Lord Byron-esque.”

“You know I hate you, right Steve? I really hope you know that.”

“I do,” Steve smiled, putting a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “And where is your lover now? What is he taking pictures of?”

Eddie was at the hotel. Richie hadn’t managed to go with him. He had helped Eddie pack his things from Richie’s home, but he couldn’t go with him to the hotel, he couldn’t see Eddie finishing packing things up, he couldn’t watch him close his suitcase knowing he wouldn’t see him open it again.

“The camera is in my backpack. Would you develop it for me?” Richie answered partially. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Are there sultry pictures in there?”

“Not really, but I can take a picture of my dick right now if that gets you going.”

“Sure, a grainy picture of your wiener will totally help me in my lonely nights,” Steve nodded, popping the cap of a beer bottle and handing it to Richie, pointing at the controllers of his Play Station. “A picture of your boyfriend’s ass on the other hand… Hey, wanna play Tekken 3?” He quickly asked, and Richie looked at him shocked, a surprised laugh coming out of his mouth.

“Shameless!” Richie accused Steve, laughing and taking a sip of his bottle.

“I’m only human! He’s got a really nice ass.”

“Oh, you don’t even know, Stephen.”

They were getting ready to play Tekken, choosing their characters and talking about some of the crazy skimpy outfits when Richie’s phone ringed. Richie sighed when he saw Eddie’s name on the screen. He stood up to take the call, walking a few steps away from the TV and the kind of loud video game music. He braced himself for the worst. What could have happen now? Did Eddie’s boss come to L.A. to take him home himself? Richie shook his head. He should stop being so stupid already.

“Hi Eds, you done already? Did something happen?”

“It actually did, you know?” Eddie answered with a sigh. “Can you come pick me up? I already returned the company car and they're evacuating the hotel.” He said. “Some dumbass fucked with the plumbing and the place is flooded. My fucking room is flooded. They let me come up to pick up my things, thank God I didn’t leave anything important here. But now I need to leave and I’d be thankful for a ride. Also, you better bring some plastic bag or something to put under my feet because my shoes are drenched. Fucking ruined them walking through greywater.” Eddie hissed, making Richie laugh.

“That’s not greywater, Eds, that’s…”

_What the hell’s greywater?_

_It’s basically piss and shit so I’m just telling you…_

Suddenly everything went black. Voices filled the room. A cold shiver run down Richie’s spine. His head hurt. It hurt so much.

“Richie? Are you there?” Eddie’s voice seemed so far away. Richie shut his eyes close.

_Richie!_

_Eddie, look at me!_

“Fuck!” Richie dropped the phone, his hands shaking, his knees so weak he fell on the floor. “_Fuck!_”

“Richie, are you okay? What is it, man?” Steve run and fell on the floor to hold him, looking at him with a worried face, trying to make Richie look at him.

But Richie couldn’t. He couldn’t look anywhere. He couldn’t open his eyes. His head was filled with images, hundreds, thousands, running one after another, places he didn’t remember, words he thought he had never spoken. Eddie. Eddie, fucking Eddie in all of them. But not like this, not like now. It wasn’t this Eddie. It was an Eddie from another time, it was the past. Fuck, it was his past. Their past.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Richie grunted, crawling to reach for the cellphone again, holding it back up to his ear. “Eddie!”

“Richie, what is it?” Eddie sounded worried. And fuck, Richie had heard him worried so many times, so many fucking times, it was the same fucking voice, how could he not…

“Greywater. Grey-fucking-water, Eddie. We’ve walked through greywater. We were together. The… the sewers. Th-the fucking Neibolt house, the…” Richie couldn’t breathe. He was sweating. He brushed the hair off his face. “The clown. The fucking clown, Eddie.”

What the fuck was going on? Richie couldn’t understand it but it was so clear. They knew each other. Fuck, they were best friends! They had spent days and days together, playing, laughing, bickering, touching, sharing everything! Sleepovers, videogames, comic books, holding hands, R + E.

There was silence at the other end of the line.

Richie could only hear Eddie breathing.

And then, Eddie spoke.

“Oh. You remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening


	12. It's gone

Richie’s blood was rushing, his hands twisting the steering wheel, cursing at LA traffic because he was in a hurry and of course, _of course_, there was a huge jam and he was fucking stuck. He hated those assholes who honked their horns when they were stuck in traffic. Right now, he was one of those assholes.

Eddie was waiting for him at the hotel. Richie had screamed at him not to move a muscle until he got there, because there was no way he was going to discuss them being CHILDHOOD FRIENDS through the phone. He'd almost tripped and fell downstairs leaving Steve’s apartment, running to his car and pushing the gas pedal, taking off like a shot.

And now he was waiting in traffic, getting more and more anxious, thinking about Eddie’s shoes soaked wet waiting for him at the hotel hallway and probably hating him for not being able to get there quicker. At the same time, memories kept coming to his mind, like they had always been there, only Richie never paid attention. It was fucking weird, suddenly remembering things you weren’t aware of a minute ago, and now it’s like you’ve known them your whole life.

Did his parents know? Did they remember Eddie? Did they remember the kid Richie always brought home and had sleepovers with and stole comic books for? They had to, right? Like, they were there, they had to remember his son’s best friend for almost ten years. Right? But then again, Richie didn’t. Not until now. Which seemed fucking crazy, to be honest.

Did that have anything to do with…?

Richie felt a cold shiver running down his spine. What was that? That thing in Neibolt. The thing in the sewers. That… clown. It looked like a clown, but it wasn’t a clown. It didn’t always look like a clown either. And they killed it. He and Eddie. But was it real? It didn’t seem like it could be real. It seemed like a fantastic horror story one of them had invented one stormy night hiding under the covers pointing a flashlight to their faces.

But there was blood. Richie remembers blood. And the smell of death. And balloons.

He blinked the thoughts away when the honking came back. Now they were honking at him. The traffic was moving and Richie’s head was empty of creepy memories and full of Eddie all over again. Eddie, goddammit. Eddie.

Eddie looked like he was going to burst into flames anytime soon, standing in the middle of the hallway, a big bag at his soaked feet. The whole bottom of his jeans was soaking wet too, and Richie could only laugh when he walked through the door and saw him like that.

“Thank God! I thought you’d nev―”

Richie crushed him in a bear hug, putting his arms around Eddie and tightening his hold, getting him as close as possible, pushing his nose through Eddie’s hair and breathing deeply. Fuck, Eddie. It was Eddie. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak from Derry, Maine, hypochondriac hyperactive prone to panic attacks and so cute, cute, cute. Richie wanted to fucking cry.

“It’s you. It’s really you,” Richie laughed, feeling his eyes welling up. He bit his lips, leaning away to take Eddie’s face in his hands. “_Eddie._”

“I was Eddie before too,” Eddie replied, but his cheeks were red and Richie took two steps back just to look at him better because of fucking course! How could he have forgotten about Eddie? How did he forget that stupid beautiful face?

“No, you weren’t. You weren’t,” Richie shook his head. “You were, but you weren’t. Now it’s you. It’s really… Fuck!” He covered his face with his hands. “This is crazy! So many things I didn’t… Do you remember the Aladdin? The Barrens! Do you…” Richie frowned, blinking, shaking his head. “Shit, we killed a clown!”

“I know…” Eddie nodded, and when Richie looked at him he noticed Eddie was too quiet, worrying at his bottom lip, almost hunched over.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Richie asked, maybe too fast, but he felt like he had a rush of adrenaline inside his veins and he couldn’t hold it back. He didn’t want to scare Eddie or anything, but fuck! It was Eddie! His Eddie! His life!

“Nothing, I… uh.” Eddie made a questioning face. “Are you not mad at me?”

“Mad at you? No! Why? No, what are you… I mean, I don’t know why you didn’t tell me but this is… Wait, actually, why didn’t you tell me? You knew this. Since when did you know about this? Since when do you remember _us?”_

“Uh… since that phone call?” Eddie rubbed his nose, his cheeks getting redder. “I didn’t freak out because of what we did. I mean. That too, but… I freaked out because it made me remember everything. I remembered you.”

“Phone call? What phone―” Richie opened his eyes wide, covering his mouth with both hands. “Oh my God. We had phone sex. I _dirty talked_ to you!”

“Yeah, we’ve done more than that…”

“_Oh my God!_ We had _sex!”_ He was about to have an aneurism. He and _Eddie_. They had… done _things_.

“See? This is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d freak out!”

“I’m not freaking out!” He was kind of freaking out. “I just… I mean, not every day you wake up and discover you’ve been dating your middle school crush!”

“Your _what?”_ Eddie asked, shocked.

“Oh, yeah, of course you didn’t know I had the hots for you,” Richie rolled his eyes. Eddie looked even more shocked. “Come on, man! I was touching you 24/7, I pinched your cheeks and kissed you every opportunity I had. I brought you comic books and sneaked out of your room so your mom…” Richie stopped, opening his mouth. Ohhhhhh shit.

“Richie, don’t!” Eddie warned with a finger in the air, a terrified face, like he could read Richie’s mind.

“Your mom, Eddie,” Richie brought his hands to his chest, batting his eyelashes and faking the biggest sigh. “The love of my life!”

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie planted his face in his hands, groaning.

“How could I forget your _mom??_ Jesus, so many mom jokes… wasted.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“You don’t hate me… _Eddie Spaghetti_,” Richie opened a mischievous smile, reaching out to pinch Eddie’s cheek.

“Oh my God, shut up! Stop it!” Eddie recoiled and covered his face with his hands, but he started laughing like crazy. “This is so weird!” He screamed when Richie close the distance again, hugging him and laughing too.

“Yowza, Eds,” Richie said, giggling. “Should I start saying that again? Shit, should I say it while we fuck? Yowza! Tally-ho, my good Edward! That prick of yours ready, wot wo―” Eddie covered Richie’s mouth with his hand, shooting him with a murderous gaze.

“I kid you not, Tozier, you say one more word and I book a plane ticket to Queens right now,” Eddie warned him. “So beep-beep, Richie.”

_“Oh,_” Richie chuckled, looking down at Eddie with a warm smile, his words muffled by Eddie’s hand. “So that’s where it came from. Yeah, I remember now.”

“It comes from you not being able to ever shut up,” Eddie answered, moving his hand from Richie’s mouth and joining his other hand on Richie’s shoulders.

“Weird. I know another method much more effective to make me shut up,” he said, making a questioning face and leaning down right when Eddie rolled his eyes. He kissed Richie back anyway, putting his arms around his neck when Richie held him by his waist.

“So…” Eddie looked at him with a smug smile. “You liked me, huh?”

“I think it’s the Kaspbrak name, dude. I couldn’t resist your mom’s charm and…”

“Richie. Enough, come on. My mom passed away not that long ago,” Eddie stopped him, putting a hand on Richie’s chest. Richie looked down at it and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said in a more serious voice, clicking his tongue. “I guess that makes me your closest family now. I know me and Sonia never married, but I consider myself your stepfather, Eddie, and I’ll be here for you,” he joked, holding his laugh when he added. “You can call me daddy.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Eddie pushed him when Richie started laughing again.

*

They drove back to Richie’s apartment talking about memories, laughing and joking and not even bothering with using the plastic bag Richie had brought for Eddie to keep from getting the car wet (like Richie could give a shit about his car right now). It all made sense, no matter how fucking insane everything was. Eddie’s laugh sounded fresher now, Eddie’s clothes made sense, Eddie’s fears and Eddie’s wishes and Eddie wanting to be free, now Richie could understand. Eddie’s dimples and Eddie’s freckles and Eddie’s speed talking and the way he moved his hands. It was like everything had fallen into place, like the missing piece Richie knew was there somewhere had finally come around. And it felt so fucking good…

It almost made Richie forget it was all about to end.

They didn’t stop talking, remembering, not even when they got to Richie’s apartment, not when Eddie took off his wet clothes and stepped into the shower because, ugh, dirty water, and not when Eddie put on some clean clothes. Richie followed him everywhere, throwing Eddie’s clothes in the laundry basket, waiting by the door while he showered, bringing him cozy and comfortable clean clothes, and_ talking_. So when Eddie was done, they went straight to the couch to keep talking about things they had already lived and talked and laughed about before, every word shared making it feel more and more real.

Richie didn’t pay attention to the suitcases by the door, he couldn’t take his eyes off Eddie. He knew they had planned a lot of things for that day, Eddie’s last day in L.A., but Richie couldn’t care less about going to the movies or to a nice restaurant or to the theatre. He just wanted to be with Eddie, he didn’t mind if that meant sitting on the couch, sharing takeout food while laughing about that time Richie had offered Eddie a cigarette and Eddie almost died coughing thinking he was having an allergic reaction to the smoke.

“Yeah, who could have thought smoking was actually bad for you, huh?” Richie joked.

“I’m glad you stopped. It made you stink,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose. “But I really wanted you to think I was cool too, that’s why I did it.”

“What made you think I liked cool in the first place? Did I look cool to you?” Richie laughed, pointing at himself.

“You were to me,” Eddie half shrugged with a smile. “I mean, you were a fucking weird kid. You weren't like anyone else. You never shut up, no matter what it came through your head, no matter how bad your jokes were or how racist your voice acting sounded,” Eddie gave him a disapproving look.

“Oh, yeah, I was a total asshole. Fucking stupid kid.”

“_But_ you were also… brave. Or maybe brave is not the word,” Eddie laughed when Richie made a face. “But you were never afraid. When you had an idea you just went on with it, no matter if you ended up being beaten up. I didn’t know if you were the most amazing guy in the world or the most irresponsible, but… shit, when I was with you I felt fucking invincible.”

“Wow…” Richie chuckled. “So I was _that good_ at pretending. I should have been an actor.” He laughed when Eddie gave him a confused look. “Man, I was afraid all the time. Afraid of people not liking me, afraid of you getting tired of me, afraid of… I don’t know, pretty much everything. But I was even more terrified of showing I was afraid, so.”

Eddie looked at him in silence, taking one of Richie’s hands and holding it tight.

“You were the reason I survived, you know? I don’t think I could have done it without you. Finding the courage to face my mom, to escape the bubble she wanted me locked in, to just be a kid… Derry was awful, but you were there. You, Richie fucking Tozier, part-time comedian, part-time superhero,” Eddie laughed. Richie felt like fucking crying. 

He remembered Eddie’s mom. Eddie could have never described her as awful as Richie knew she really was. Sonia Kaspbrak. Just her name made Richie cringe. She was the reason Eddie was a nervous wreck almost all the time. She was the reason Richie always carried an extra inhaler when he was with Eddie. She was the reason Eddie had trouble understanding love. She was the reason Eddie was afraid to play, afraid to get dirty, afraid of germs, afraid of sickness, afraid of being alive. Eddie was never afraid of any of those things, he was afraid of what his mom would do if she found out he had been exposed to them.

And Richie, Jesus, Richie hated her so much. The feeling was mutual, of course. Sonia despised seeing him around her son, and that’s how Richie knew he was doing the right thing. That’s why he loved being the little devil on Eddie’s shoulder, tempting him to play in the mud, to take a drag of his cigarette, to talk about sex, to walk through shitty water, to kill a shapeshifting clown.

Richie was everything Sonia had warned Eddie of. Richie was the sickness, Richie was the leper, Richie was the disease Eddie needed to avoid. He hoped she could see them now, from wherever she was. He hoped she was rolling in her grave knowing his son had finally got infested, and he was fucking loving it.

Richie wondered if Myra was really that much like Sonia. He always had some kind of remorse for having gotten in between their relationship. It was true she didn’t sound good for Eddie, but Richie was sure he would have thought the same about any other person. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. She probably loved Eddie too (what’s not to love? Eddie was fucking perfect). But if she was anything like Sonia, God, Richie hoped she had cried her eyes out knowing she had lost Eddie and she would not be able to have him ever again.

And speaking of…

“We can’t forget again,” Richie said. He wasn’t risking losing Eddie again, but even more important, he didn’t want Myra to have the chance of having him back. Richie wouldn’t allow that. He would go to fucking Queens if that mean prying Myra’s fingers away from Eddie. “We don’t know how this works, we don’t know if it this has anything to do with the shit we dealt with when we were kids, but I’m not risking it. We need to find the way to keep our memories.”

“I agree,” Eddie nodded. “I don’t want to lose you. But I also don’t want to…”

“Don’t even say it. You wouldn’t bother me. Ever. Even if you call me at 4 a.m. just to tell me you got a new haircut. Especially if you got a new haircut.” Eddie laughed at that, worrying at his bottom lip.

“But we do have jobs, demanding ones. How long do you think we could last without talking to each other, before we…”

“I don’t know. And I don’t want to know. I’ll call you every day, Eddie, I don’t give a fuck if I need to call you while I’m on stage. Dammit, I’ll do that and incorporate it in my act if I had to. But I can’t forget you. I won’t.”

Eddie took a deep breath, closing his eyes and nodding.

“Okay,” he said, nodding again. “Yeah, okay.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“We will,” Eddie smiled. “We’ll make it work.”

*

Eddie’s plane took off at 7 a.m. in the morning, and Richie only got to sleep once he went back home. He stayed awake all night, enjoying Eddie’s presence as much as he could, just talking; about the past, about the future, making plans he knew were difficult to accomplish. And then, when Eddie fell asleep on top of him, using his body as a mattress, Richie just held him close and watched him sleep, touching Eddie’s hair and kissing his forehead, and wishing he could stop the time and stay like that forever.

Steve drove them to the airport because Richie wasn’t sure he would be able to drive back alone. Richie still needed to explain a lot of things to Steve, but he wasn’t going to rush it. He knew it would sound crazy but he also knew Steve was a good friend, one of those friends who would be there for you even when you’re not making any sense.

Steve actually stayed that day at his apartment, until Richie woke up. He made coffee and fixed some late breakfast, sat in front of Richie on the kitchen counter and they both drank in silence. Richie felt like a corpse, like the shell of a human being, empty and fragile and slightly broken. He was glad Steve had stayed.

“I need to tell you something,” Richie said after a while.

“Is it about the mental breakdown you had over the phone with Eddie?” Steve asked. Smart motherfucker. It made Richie smile.

So Richie told him the story, the story about two best friends living in a shithole of a town, dealing with bullying and bad parenting and repressed emotions. He talked about the clown too. He didn’t get into much detail because he wasn’t sure what that thing was anyway, but he told Steve about the missing children, about the murders, about not feeling safe at all even when the adults were close, sometimes especially when the adults were close.

“I’m not making this up,” Richie said when he could see the doubt written all over Steve’s face.

“I’m not saying you’re making things up… I’m just saying maybe you’re confused. I mean, you have to admit it’s a pretty weird thing to be friends with someone for almost ten years, someone who was that important, and then forget about the whole thing.”

“It had to be because of the clown. That thing did something to us…” Richie tried to explain, knowing it sounded nuts. “Look, maybe it wasn’t something supernatural, okay? Maybe it was just trauma! People were dying. Children were getting killed!”

“That’s exactly why I think you can’t really trust your memory of that time, Rich. Awful things happened and maybe your mind made you…”

“Wait. I’ll prove it to you,” Richie cut him, taking his phone and scrolling through the names on his contact list.

It was a risky move. He didn’t know if it would work, but he needed to try. He pressed the call button and waited. He took a deep breath.

“Hi, dad!” Richie smiled when his dad picked up the phone. “Listen… yeah, everything’s fine. I have good news, in fact. But I need to ask you something first.” He was nervous. His heart was hammering in his chest. “Do you remember Eddie? Eddie Kaspbrak? Form Derry?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak?” His dad sounded like he wasn’t expecting that question, and he took a few seconds to answer. “Well, yes. Of course. I remember the Kaspbrak kid, he was around all the time.”

“Yes!” Richie laughed, punching Steve on his arm and putting the phone on speaker. “You’re not gonna believe this, dad. I met him. He was here. He’s a fucking risk analyst now, and he lives in New York.”

“Oh, really? That would suit him well,” Wentworth said, and Richie gave Steve a smug smile. “What was he doing in L.A.?”

“He came to evaluate the theatre I work for. I worked for, actually. But I’ll talk about that later. Listen, do you happen to have any photos of us? I think I remember we took pictures together. But there also should be school pictures or something like that, right?”

“Yes, there should be some pictures. They’re probably in those boxes in the attic, the one with your school things. I’m sure there are pictures of you with the rest of the guys.”

“The rest of the guys?” Richie frowned. What guys?

“Well, yes. The Denbrough kid and… the son of the rabbi. I think there was a couple more. But Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak, they were always around. Your mother would probably remember the name of the others, she was always here making sandwiches for all of you after all.”

Richie just looked at the cellphone on the table. He was hearing what his dad was saying but it was like his brain wasn’t able to register it. Bill Denbrough. Richie knew that name, right? Big Bill. Stuttering Bill. He blinked fast, looking at Steve.

“Are you okay, Rich?”

“Bill Denbrough was… my best friend. Bill Denbrough,” Richie frowned. His head was hurting all over again. Shit, how much had he forgotten? “Dad? Can you send me those pictures? Or, wait. Can you… Can you fax them to Steve’s office? I’ll…” He searched quickly for his wallet, looking for the business card Marion had given him when she signed him. “I’ll give you the number. Please, fax me any picture you can find.”

Richie’s hands were shaking holding the card while he said the number to his dad, making him promise he would fax the photos as soon as he got them. Wentworth said he would send them the next morning, and when Richie hung up he was still feeling weak on the knees, glad he was sitting because he didn’t know if he was able to stand up right now.

“It killed Georgie,” was the first thing he said when he looked back at Steve, who looked at Richie horrified. “The clown. It killed Bill’s little brother. It tried to kill us too. All of us.”

“Jesus Christ, Richie, what the fuck was that town of yours? It sounds like something from a horror movie,” Steve moved to put a hand on Richie’s shoulder, gently massaging it. “Are you sure you’re okay? Look, maybe you forgot because it was better that way. That shit… that shit sounds scarring, especially for a child.”

“I need to tell Eddie. He needs to know.”

*

Bill Denbrough, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh. Richie hadn’t heard those names in a long, long time, but they came straight to his mind when he saw the pictures. Shit, those were his best friends. Those were the people he had sworn not to forget. Those were the ones who had fought alongside him, not just the clown but the bullies, the fear, the loneliness, the fucking town.

Steve had freaked out when Richie had shown them the pictures (after he had laughed at Richie’s outfit). There they were, Richie and Eddie, teasing each other, making faces, laughing, touching. Always touching. Shit, Richie was such a creep, but he didn’t think Eddie minded. Maybe he even secretly wanted it. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything. Richie himself never said anything, no matter how much of a loudmouth he was, his secret was never revealed. It was too important, too dangerous. So Richie could imagine what it could have meant for Eddie to feel that way for him, for any other boy. His mom would have… Richie didn’t even want to think about it.

“You guys seem so close,” Steve said, inspecting the pictures. “Shit, I can’t believe your crazy story was true. I mean, look at you, guys! Eddie hasn’t changed at all, how did you forget? And not just about him, the rest of them too. You look…”

“Like a family.” Richie finished, nodding. “We were. This forgetting about each other thing… it’s not natural. I know what you think, Steve,” Richie cut him before Steve could say something, “but I need you to promise me something. You need to promise me you’ll remind me. If I ever look like I forgot or if I start to forget… you can’t let that happen.”

“Okay,” Steve said immediately. “Of course, man.”

Richie was glad he now had Steve to help him remember.

He called Eddie that morning right when he received the pictures from his dad, but it went straight to his voicemail and Richie thought Eddie would be probably busy working. He called again after lunch. Eddie didn’t pick up. He was starting to freak out when his cellphone rang and he saw Eddie’s name on the screen.

“Dude, are you really avoiding me so soon? Come on, your mom would have never done that to me,” Richie said the moment he picked up, laughing when he heard Eddie groaning.

“Fuck off,” was the first words Eddie said to him, and Richie smiled like those were the most beautiful words in the world. “I’m sorry, I have a lot of work and I need to use my personal phone when I’m out because they haven’t gotten a company phone for me yet. Once I get it things will be easier, but for now, I need to restring personal calls while I’m working. Which is stupid, because what if something happens? What if there’s an emergency? Like, what if you had an accident? I wouldn’t have known until I had finished my shift and maybe by then you’d be dead and how are they going to pay me for that, huh? They say it’s better for the business if I don’t attend personal calls while I’m working but if you die and you can’t reach me and I don’t find out soon enough these motherfuckers are going to be paying for my therapy sessions for fucking life and I don’t think _that’s_ good for business. Also, they better get me a new cellphone because there’s no way I’m using one someone has already used, like… do you know how much shit is on our phones? Not inside them, like, on them. There are so much bacteria on the surface of a cellphone using them is almost like resting your face on a toilet seat, and I can deal with putting _my_ face on _my_ toilet seat but fuck them if they think I’m going to put my face on someone else’s _ass_,” he stressed the last word, making Richie burst out laughing. “It’s not funny, Richie, it’s real. But anyway, how are you, how are things going?”

“Well, no one is forcing me to put my face on a toilet seat, so I guess I’m better than you,” Richie laughed. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Or someone.” He said, making a dramatic pause before he added. “Do you remember Bill Denbrough?”

“Bill Denbrough? Was that the guy you were hitting on that night when we went out with Steve and his friends?” Eddie asked in a bitter tone.

“No, Eds, that’s…” Richie laughed again, shaking his head. “No. Pay attention closely, okay? Bill Denbrough. Big Bill. And also Stan and Mike and Bev and Ben.” He said again, and this time Eddie fell silent. Richie knew he was getting there. “Stan the Man Uris. Haystack. Molly Ringwald. Homeschool. And Big fucking Bill, Eddie.”

“Shit,” Eddie whispered. “Oh, shit. The losers.”

“Oh, Eds, that’s so rude…”

“Fuck off, Richie, that was our club. The losers club!” Eddie laughed. “Shit, what a fucking stupid name.”

“Oh, right! So you remember them, right? I didn’t… I had no idea they existed until my dad talked about them.”

“I didn’t either. I thought it was just… but no, fuck, of course they were there too. Shit, Richie, how much have we forgotten?”

“I don’t know, man, but my dad sent me some pretty sweet pictures of all of us and shit… we were all so stupid, but we looked so happy. And I’m all over you in every one of them.”

“Oh, of course you were,” Eddie laughed, making Richie smile. God, it meant so much just hearing his voice. He wanted to reach out and touch him too.

“I was too obvious, right? Back then,” Richie asked feeling a little stupid and a little self-conscious too. He looked at the pictures in his hand. How could have anyone not notice?

“I don’t think so. You were like that with everybody, I didn’t really feel like I was special. Or maybe I was too busy trying to hide my own feelings for you to notice anything else.” Eddie added, making Richie smile.

“So… you liked me too?” He asked, hearing Eddie chuckling at the other end of the line.

“Of course I did. _That_ was obvious. I didn’t want to act on it or anything because, well, first of all, I didn’t think you were interested, you spent every day talking about pussy. And second, if there was even a possibility you could want it too, I still wouldn’t have done anything. I was too afraid. I hated hospitals, I still do. And I knew I could end up there if anyone found out.”

“It was really a shitty town,” Richie sighed, looking down. “I was beaten up enough times to know I wouldn’t have done anything either. Not because of me, I didn’t really care. But I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Maybe…” Eddie whispered, a pinch of a smile in his voice. “Maybe we could have kept it secret. You already sneaked in and out of my room all the time.”

“You would have died if I had done anything, Eduardo.” Richie laughed, opening a fond smile. “Can you imagine? Me reaching out and kissing you in the dark while we shared your bed? There wouldn't have been enough inhalers in the whole town.”

“You say that like I didn’t spend way too many nights working up the courage to do so myself,” Eddie replied, taking Richie by surprise. “Clearly I was too afraid in the end… but I also wasn’t sure if you…”

“I carved our names on the kissing bridge,” Richie said. “Well, not our names, of course. Just R plus E. But it was something. You don’t know how difficult it was for me to keep quiet about anything,” Richie laughed. “So especially that, I wanted to scream it from the top of my lungs. I couldn’t. But I wanted to, at least, make it real somehow.”

“God, I can’t believe you did that,” Eddie laughed but his voice was breaking a little. “I remember seeing that carving and thinking it was a cruel joke.” He sighed, clearing his throat. “So, how are things going? You know, with your new job. Is Boston still an option?” Eddie asked. “I really want to see you.”

“Steve got me a few gigs here and I’ve got an audition next week in Phoenix…”

“Fucking Phoenix.”

“I know, I just… Boston would probably take time,” Richie said, not sure if he was even telling the truth. Steve was working hard trying to find things closer to New York, but Richie’s name wasn’t that big yet, and it was easier to move him around the closest cities. “But this is paying better, so that means I could just buy a plane ticket whenever and have a few days together.”

“Just tell me the days and I’ll send you the tickets. You don’t even need to―”

“Eddie, that’s not―”

“No, Rich, you don’t understand!” Eddie cut him, and Richie frowned because he had never heard Eddie sound so upset. “I need you here. Every time we talk on the phone the pain grows stronger, but I can handle it. What I can’t handle is… when it fades. When I’m at work or I’m out and you’re not here… and it fades away. When I’ve gone too many hours without hearing about you or thinking about you and then your name appears on the screen of my phone and I… I have to take a second to remember,” Eddie whispers. “It’s scary. I don’t want the memories to go away, I’ve written your name all over the place, but there are times when I can’t remember your face. I have no real friends here, most of the people I know are still freaking out about what happened with Myra, so I can’t talk to them about you and I just…”

“Eddie. Eds, come on. It’ll get better. Just breathe, baby,” Richie guided him, breathing in and out to make Eddie do the same. “You’re not gonna forget me, okay? I’m not gonna let you do that. You hear me? I’ll call you ten times a day, I’ll leave you a hundred voicemails just so you remember my annoying voice.”

“But what if you…”

“I won’t. Steve knows you, Kyle knows you, my new boss knows you too! I’ve talked to her about you. They won’t let me forget you, and I won’t let you forget me, and we will suffer together during the time we spend apart until I finally get my ass closer to you and you get to see my stupid face again.” Richie smiled when he heard Eddie chuckle. “I think it’s actually better you don’t remember my face, I still don’t know how the hell I got you to find me attractive at all.”

“I honestly only remember your cock. That I can picture vividly,” Eddie said in a totally serious voice, making Richie burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, look at you, Edward Kaspbrak! Are you going to steal my act? Come on, no one is going to book me in New York if you’re around!”

“It wasn’t that funny, you’re just easy,” Eddie replied with a chuckle. “But, speaking of, I really miss that part of you too. Not your act, although you do make me laugh a lot. But I mean your dick. I do miss your dick.”

“There he is. That’s the hopeless romantic I feel in love with,” Richie laughed. “I’ll make a replica of it and send it to you. Do you prefer wood or…”

“I would prefer if you put that mouth of yours to work, to be honest,” Eddie interrupted him. “Talk dirty to me, Trashmouth.”

Richie laughed at the old nickname and got comfortable on the couch.

“Well, if you insist, Mr. Kaspbrak…”

*

It was hard, Richie wasn’t going to lie, being apart from Eddie. He tried to enjoy his time with Steve, his new job, traveling, doing gigs here and there, meeting people, laughing and making them laugh, but it was too obvious he wasn’t really happy until Eddie picked up the phone every time. They had agreed it would be Richie calling, since his schedule was totally crazy and Eddie’s work hours were pretty much the same every day unless he had to visit some company due to some kind of emergency. Richie always tried to call at least once in the afternoon, and then another time right before going to bed if his show that day hadn’t finished too late. The only good thing about being apart was how many things they had to tell each other every day.

Eddie moved out of Queens a few weeks after getting back there, and Richie really enjoyed hearing him talk about how excited he was to own his own house, and how pretty some of them were, and how scary it felt sometimes, and how crazy his real estate agent was.

“She keeps mentioning how nice this or that room would be for a baby. I told her, I’m not even married, but she keeps insisting.”

“Don’t be stupid, Eddie. I’m the baby.”

Richie got the job in Phoenix, a full contract for a whole season. Steve would go with him too, so they left their apartments, put most of their things in a rented storehouse and packed the essentials to live in Phoenix for that time. Richie was going to need to get used to it, being on the road, not having a permanent residence, at least not until he landed something good enough to settle down, or get big enough just to tour for a few months and spend the rest of the year at home.

Steve was a really good agent, though, and he was getting Richie to places he had never thought of. He started doing voice acting too, for small commercials and the like, mostly radio but TV too. He also encouraged Richie to start writing more. There were a lot of comedy shows that could use his wit if Richie managed to focus.

“You’re good enough, Richie. You’re talented. You’re smart. People love you,” Steve said. “Write something good for me and I promise you I’ll take you to New York sooner than you think.”

Easier said than done, but Richie was motivated enough not to doubt himself.

“I have something. It’s raw, not ready yet, but it could be something,” Richie said, fixing his clothes in the mirror. “I wanted to check it out with Eddie. There are some things about us and I want to know if he’s okay with me telling them in public. But I guess he’s been busy today, because I couldn’t contact him earlier.” He explained, pouring himself a shot of bourbon. Old habits die hard.

“He’s not picking up?” Steve asked, taking the bottle away once Richie had filled the tiny glass. He wasn’t going to drink anymore, but he knew Steve was just looking out for him, just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone drunk on stage.

_“It has not been possible to connect your call. Please try again later,_” Richie said, mimicking the voice of the robotic operator. “Actually, can you call him for me? I’m going to finish pretty late tonight. Ask him if he minds me calling him later. I still wanna talk to him anyway.” Richie said, drinking up his shot.

“No problem, boss,” Steve said, and Richie made a face.

“Man, I hate it when you call me that.”

Richie walked on stage when his name was called, spotlights blinding him and the warm applause welcoming him. He smiled. He did love his job.

One thing he had learned was the audience was different in every city, even from town to town. People didn’t react the same way to the same jokes unless he told them a little bit different. It was a lot of research work, to find out what could be better and what would flop, but Richie was good at his job and he was committed to it. Also, he loved that his “research work” meant laying on the couch watching comedy specials.

Sometimes he watched them with Eddie, not physically, of course, but on the phone. He would turn on the TV and call Eddie, repeat some of the funniest jokes just to hear Eddie laugh. Eddie had told him once maybe he could call him right before going on stage and leave the call running, so Eddie could hear him act. It wasn’t such a bad idea, but Richie wanted to perfect his act before he let Eddie hear it. He was getting to know his audience, he was good, but he could get so much better, and Eddie only deserved the best.

He left the stage two hours later, smiling and thanking the audience for being great, hearing the ovation continue as he walked out. The crew congratulated him and Richie thanked them too. He was starting to get along really well with most of them and he knew he was going to miss them when he was gone. He walked backstage to his dressing room, but Steve met him before he could get there.

“Did you see that? I’m getting better!” Richie smiled, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and shaking him. “God, that was good!”

“It was, Rich. It really was,” Steve smiled, but he didn’t seem too excited. Richie frowned.

“Wow, you’re the life of the party. And speaking about parties, I really feel like going out tonight? What do you say?” Richie asked. “But first, what did Eddie say? Is he free to talk now?”

“I… uh,” Steve opened his mouth and closed, looking at Richie like he didn’t know what to say. Richie felt his stomach twisting.

“What?” He demanded. “Spit it out! What happened?”

“I couldn’t… talk to him. I called but…”

“Is his phone still out of reach?” Richie cut him. “Is that it? Come on, Steve, just tell me!” He was getting anxious, and Steve only gave him a dumb look, mouthing like a fish out of the water. “Jesus Christ, Steve!”

Richie reached for his own cellphone, looking for Eddie’s number and pressing call.

It didn’t make any sound. It didn’t go straight to voicemail. It just…

_Sorry, the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me


	13. It's done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, guys! We're so close to the end, I can't believe it! I'm guessing just two more chapters until it's finished, maybe three, but I'm not sure. Anyway, thanks for not hating me too much because of the last one, I hope I fixed it in this one :)

“Try again. Just try again, Steve!” Richie was desperate, pacing up and down the living room in the apartment he shared with Steve in Phoenix. Steve looked at him like he was a mad man, and damn, he felt like a mad man.

Steve had dragged him from the club and forced him into the car, drove all the way home while Richie numbered all the reasons why this had to be a misunderstanding. He just needed to call again. Maybe there was something wrong with his phone. Maybe…

“Richie, let’s go to bed. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Steve seemed tired.

Richie didn’t care.

“Tomorrow? How the fuck am I supposed to wait until tomorrow?? What if something happened, what if…?” Richie shook his head. No. No, he couldn’t wait. He needed to get in contact with Eddie now. Right now.

But every time he dialed the number the stupid voice of the operator said the same phrase and what did that even mean? No longer in service? How the fuck could Eddie’s phone be no longer in service? Richie had talked to him a day ago, for God’s sake. He wanted to crash his phone against the nearest wall but he couldn’t, just in case Eddie found the way to call him back, somehow, if he even knew Richie was trying to reach him. He had to know, right? He had to know, they were supposed to call once a day at least and now more than 24 hours had passed since he last heard Eddie’s voice and Richie couldn’t… he just couldn’t…

He dropped to his knees, fists pressing against his head. He felt so angry and useless and impotent, so tiny in such a fucking huge world, so insignificant. He couldn’t do anything! Such an unimportant thing like a deactivated phone number could manage to vanish Eddie’s presence into nothing, to disappear from Richie’s life the same way he came to it.

Where the fuck was that cosmic turtle when Richie needed him the most? Fuck, it was all his fault. He let the fucking clown in, he fucked up Eddie’s and Richie’s life, he allowed Derry to become a fucking living hell, made them face fear and death and nothingness and eternity when they were just _children_, and then he let them all forget about each other, about the people that meant the most to them. Did they mean so little? Were they just toys for interdimensional entities to play with? Was this fun? Was watching Richie lose the love of his life all over again fun at all?

“He’s going to forget about me,” Richie cried. Fuck, he was having a panic attack. “Are you enjoying this, motherfucker??” He screamed at the ceiling, clutching at his chest, feeling like it was getting tighter and tighter.

“Richie. Richie, listen to me. Breathe, man, breathe,” Steve kneeled beside him, touching his back, breathing deep in and out to help Richie do the same. But there was no point. What was the point?

“He’s going to forget and I’m going to lose him, Steve. Can’t you see?”

“Listen to me, Richie. Listen to me closely.” Steve held his face, making him look up at him. “You’re gonna drink something hot, and you’re going to bed. You’re going to rest, and tomorrow we’re going to call Eddie’s work. You had their number, remember? You called there months ago like a stalker when you wanted to ask for credentials. Remember?” Steve started talking and although Richie’s mind refused to pay attention to anything else but his own misery, deep down he knew Steve was making a point. “We call to the office, ask for Edward Kaspbrak, come up with some bullshit about needing him for something related to The Spot or whatever and ask for his phone number. He needs a phone number for work, right? So that’s it. It’s just a day, Rich. He’s not going to forget you after just a day, man, come on. You’re too obnoxious, you’re hard to forget.”

Richie nodded, covering his face with his hands, feeling weak and pathetic. He should have laughed, prove Steve he was acknowledging his efforts to try and lighten the situation. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. His head hurt but his heart hurt even more. Richie didn’t think he had dealt with so much pain ever in his life.

Steve moved once he had made sure Richie had calmed down, walking to the kitchen and making some tea, some kind of infusion maybe, Richie wasn’t sure. He brought the mug to Richie and forced him to drink it, saying it would help him sleep. Richie doubted it. Unless Steve had put some good old heroin in the mix he didn’t think a fucking herbal tea could help him sleep at all. The only thing he needed to help him sleep was hearing Eddie’s voice.

He fell into bed like a dead body, not even bothering to put the covers over him, just taking off his shoes and curling in a fetal position. He took his phone and looked at the screen, counting the times he had called a number that no longer existed. He tried again. Just one last time, just in case this was all a cruel joke.

The voice of the operator mocked him again.

Richie closed his eyes and sighed, and while he had his eyes closed, he fell asleep.

*

Steve was already up when Richie woke up, as usual, and there was a box of donuts on the kitchen counter, which meant Steve wanted to apologize for something. Richie sat at the counter and grabbed one of the donuts, eating almost half of it in one bite. He needed the sugar.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked.

“Like shit.”

He was more like a puppet instead of a human being, dragged around by some invisible strings, making him dance to a dreadful song. His muscles were sore, his head hurt, and he could literally feel the dark circles under his eyes, like his face was made of clay and someone had decided to push their thumbs down his eye sockets. Steve put a mug of steaming coffee in front of Richie and looked at him.

“I had an idea,” he started, but his face wasn’t exactly amused so Richie braced himself for the worst. “I’m telling you this because I’m assuming you don’t have the number to Eddie’s office with you, so if you have it feel free to interrupt me.” He said, and actually waited a few seconds like there was a possibility Richie had any idea what he was talking about. “I remember you told me you looked it up in some documents Bartlow had in his office, so I’m thinking about calling some of the guys I worked with and ask them if maybe they can try to ask around or maybe, I don’t know, they could try to get it. It’s an insurance company, their contact number is not a secret, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find it.” Steve explained. Richie sipped at his coffee. “There’s another possibility, too. If you called from your cellphone we can ask your phone company for the receipt of that month and look up any New York looking number.”

“I’m not sure if I used my phone. I honestly don’t remember,” Richie said. Only a few months had passed but it felt like an eternity. He couldn’t believe there had been a time when he honestly didn’t know who Eddie Kaspbrak was to the point of calling to his office for credentials.

“Don’t worry about it. I called Kyle this morning,” Steve said, and Richie gave him a little smug smile because no matter how fucked up he was, there was no way he could miss an opportunity to tease Steve about Kyle, “I told him we needed the number for the agency and he said he would go to The Spot and try to speak with Bartlow, tell him some bullshit about wanting to buy the place and ask him to see the report Eddie made. If we get the name of the company, we’ll get the number.”

“Kyle is going to lie for me?” Richie asked.

“He’s going to lie for us… although I’m not so sure about it being a complete lie. The place is in shambles since you left, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to buy it and make something good of it.”

“Something good? Like what?”

“I don’t know, Kyle said it would make a great dungeon.”

"Dungeon? You mean like D&D?" Richie asked, and Steve's face was enough for him to understand he did not mean like D&D. "Oh… _Oh_. God, Steve, I didn’t need to know that.”

“I never said I would go!”

“Your boyfriend likes it, so that means you have fucked wearing something made of leather. You can’t change my mind.”

“Uh, actually…”

“Dude! So kinky.” Richie laughed, and it felt like he hadn’t done that in a million times. His chest was healing but there was still a hole inside. “So, we’ll get the number tomorrow?”

Another day. Will Eddie still remember him by then?

“He will try to get it today. He’ll call me as soon as he has it.” Steve gave Richie a warm smile. “We’ll find him, Rich. And, in the meantime, I got a call this morning, the pictures are ready. And Kyle said he would email me the ones from the bar, so we’re going to have a pretty nice collection.”

“I don’t…” Richie frowned, finishing his coffee. “What pictures do you mean? I’m not interested in having pictures of the guy I hooked up with once,” he scoffed a laugh.

“Dude. Eddie was there too,” Steve laughed, but then he made a weird face. “You don’t remember that?”

“Yeah! Yes, of course I remember!” Richie laughed too, blinking fast as the memories showed up inside his brain. Yes. Of course he remembered. It was just… it was too early.

“What about the other ones?” Steve asked again, a questioning look on his face.

“Yes, I do remember the other ones too. The ones my dad sent. I’ve got them in my room, although the quality is shit. I should try to get him to email them to me too, although I’m not sure he will find his way around a computer.”

“Right,” Steve said. Just that. He didn’t say anything else.

He had a weird look on his face, one Richie hadn’t seen before and he didn’t understand, couldn’t figure out what it meant, but it was unsettling. Was there something else? Was he missing something?

“What is it?” Richie asked, and it was like his voice made Steve snap out wherever he was inside his head, blinking fast and shaking his head.

“Nothing. It’s all good!”

“You look weird.”

“Hey, let’s get ready, okay?” Steve slapped gently the kitchen counter, standing up. “You’ve got some radio commercial to voice this week before the show.”

“Right, right,” Richie nodded, shaking his thoughts out of his head and trying to get into the right headspace.

*

Richie found he didn't have much problem slipping into his comedian persona and acting like nothing happened, like his life and everything that mattered to him wasn't balancing on a knife-edge. He knew it was a good thing, that he didn't let his emotions affect his work, but he couldn't help to wonder if maybe it was just too easy for him to forget about what was going on with him and Eddie.

Two days had passed. Two days since Kyle promised to go visit The Spot and find the name or the number of Eddie’s workplace. Steve said he was handling things and Richie wanted to believe him, he wanted to feel sure, but he didn’t know what to feel anymore. He felt too powerless. But then that morning Steve said Kyle had texted him and said he would call later and Richie was just… freaking out the whole day.

"You were great, Richie!" Steve patted him in the back when he got out of the recording studio. "I totally want to change my phone company now," he laughed.

"Did you get the number?" Richie asked immediately, ignoring Steve's praises. He couldn't be bothered with that kind of thing now. He needed to focus. He needed Eddie.

"I…" Steve sighed. "Look, why don't you let me do this and I'll give you a full report when you finish your show tonight?" Steve asked, and before Richie could say a word, he continued. "Richie, I'm your friend, but I'm also your agent and we both know this is a delicate issue and you don't want to ruin your whole career because of some good news or some bad news. You do your thing, I'll do mine, and we'll handle this at home when you're done, okay?"

Richie balled his fists, taking a deep breath. Never in his life had he wanted to fight Steve more than right now, but he also knew Steve was right.

“You handle this the best you can, Steve. Promise me. You do everything in your hand, okay?” Richie said, Steve nodding all the time. “Steve, I trust you.”

“You can trust me. I’ll handle it. Now let’s go, there’s a show you need to kill.”

Richie drank a full glass of bourbon before going on stage. It made him feel dizzy, which was funny because he used to do that a lot when he started doing stand-up and now it was like he couldn’t handle that much amount of alcohol in his system without giggling like a five-year-old. It didn’t show on stage, because no matter how he felt, he was still a professional, and people still laughed, they still clapped, and Richie delivered every line the way he was supposed to. So when he got out of stage Steve congratulated him as usual and he asked something like “I haven’t seen you drink that much before going on stage in a long time. Were you that nervous today?”

“Not about the stand-up,” Richie said, and it was enough for Steve to understand.

“I called Eddie’s office.”

Those were the first words that came out of Steve’s mouth the moment they stepped into their shared apartment. No background information, no telling if it was Kyle who got the number, if he had to call some guy from the crew, if he had to call Bartlow himself. Nothing. Just those words. And Richie felt like he needed another glass of whatever he could find with enough volume. Instead, he just kept listening.

“They said Eddie changed his number when they gave him his new company phone. The girl told me something about he wanting his private number to be private and a lot of his clients had it already, so he changed it. She gave me his business number, but I guess that’s better than nothing. So…”

Steve stopped there, worrying at his bottom lip. He looked anxious. Steve never looked anxious.

“So??” Richie hurried him up.

“I called. And he did pick up,” Steve said. “He’s all right, Richie. Nothing bad happened.”

Richie let out a big sigh he didn’t know he was holding, a nervous laugh escaping his lips when he covered his face with his hands. He felt a heavy weight abandoning his back, and he looked at Steve with hopeful eyes.

“Did he remember you?”

“He did,” Steve nodded, but there was something on his face, something that didn’t match the good news he had just told Richie. He wasn’t smiling. Why wasn’t he smiling? “I just… Look, he did remember me. I told him I was Steve, Richie’s friend, and he said something like, _yeah, Steve from The Spot_.” Steve started to explain. It gave Richie a chill. “I told him you wanted to talk to him and he said, ‘sure!’ And then...” Steve rubbed his face up and down. “I don’t know, Richie. He did remember you, but it was like he didn’t really remember… _you_.”

Richie heard him, processed it.

His brain went blank.

That, right there, what Steve just said, was his worst fear, but he just couldn’t think what to do next. He didn’t know what to do. He could only… stare at nothing. Lost.

He was lost.

“Richie, are you okay?” Steve got closer to him, his face worried and his voice shaky. “Look, he did remember you, somehow. Like, he knew who Richie Tozier was, so maybe―”

“I don’t know, Steve.” Richie cut him. “I just. I don’t know what to do.”

“Look, I can… throw away his phone number, delete it, pretend this never happened…”

“No!” Richie jumped, looking at Steve like he was crazy. Why would he suggest that? Why would he think Richie could even consider that? “Fuck no, Steve, what the hell? No, shit. I just need to… I just need to think, okay? But I want that phone number. I need… Give me the phone number, Steve.”

Steve just looked at him in silence, not moving a muscle, like he was frozen.

“STEVE!” Richie yelled and Steve jumped, nodding and finally moving, looking for his wallet, opening it and taking out a yellow piece of paper with a number on it. Richie almost yanked it off Steve’s fingers, quickly saving it on his phone number.

Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. From Derry, Maine.

Now there was no way he could forget about him.

“Are you going to call?” Steve asked. He looked worried. He looked _afraid_.

“That’s none of your business,” Richie said, standing up and walking away. “I’m going to bed.”

*

When Richie woke up in the morning the first thing he saw was a huge post-it note stuck to his bedside lamp saying "CALL EDDIE KASPBRAK". He had written it the night before just in case he didn't remember in the morning. He did remember, or so he thought. He told himself he did remember, but he really wasn't sure if he had remembered if it weren't because of the note. He was getting a little paranoid.

He should have had a coffee before even thinking about dialing the number, but he didn’t want to come out of his room and look at Steve’s face. Steve and his stupid ideas. Steve and… Fuck. It was the first time he and Steve had fought like that. It was the first time Richie had really wanted to punch Steve, and it was all because of a phone number. He knew Steve wanted the best for him, but damn, couldn’t he understand Eddie was the best for him?

Richie pushed the call button. He hung up two dial tones later.

Shit, could he do it? Yes! Yes! He could. It was Eddie. It was just Eddie. He would hear Richie’s voice and remember him and they both would laugh about it.

Richie called again. And immediately hung up.

But what if he didn’t? What if he had forgotten Richie completely? What if he was living his happy life in New York, in his new house, working his dream job, unaware of the horrors they had lived as kids and the love they shared and the pain of not being together. Could Richie call him just to make him suffer? Richie looked at his cellphone. It didn’t seem fair.

He should get that coffee.

Richie was moving to get out of the room, his cellphone left on his bedside table, when it ringed, buzzing against the wooden table, making an awful noise. Richie looked at it like it was the devil, walking towards it slowly to look at the screen. Eddie Kaspbrak (from DERRY, Maine).

Richie closed his eyes. Breathed in and out once. Then twice. Then…

“Hi,” his voice was soft and careful. Almost a whisper.

“Hello, this is Edward Kaspbrak. I’ve got a couple of missed calls from this number.”

Richie covered his face and smiled, a soft laugh bubbling in his chest. His voice. Fuck, his voice. Richie wasn’t aware of how much he had missed that sweet, kind of snarky voice.

“Uh, yes. I’m.” Richie took a deep breath. “This is Richie.”

“Oh, right!” There was a warm smile in his voice, a little chuckle. “Your friend Steve called yesterday. He said you wanted to talk to me, and my boss said something about The Spot maybe changing owners? I told him my report was spot on, no pun intended, and Mr. Bartlow totally liked it, so I don’t know what could go wrong. Is there something wrong?”

Richie closed his eyes and swallowed, sitting on the edge of his bed. There was still a smile on his face. Eddie didn’t remember him.

“Uh, no, I… I actually don’t work there anymore,” Richie explained, trying to get his voice not to shake. It was so unreal, pretending nothing had happened, pretending they weren’t… Shit, it must have been really hard for Eddie when he first found out, to keep acting like they were strangers until Richie regained his memories too. He admired Eddie even more now. “But I think Kyle is interested in buying the place.”

“Oh, you left? Then I understand why the place is going down. You were the key to keep it running,” Eddie said. “It’s funny. Steve asked me if I remembered you. Like I could forget, you really gave me a hard time there,” he laughed, and Richie laughed too, covering his face with his hand. He closed his eyes shut.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m kind of an asshole sometimes,” he said, sniffing and quickly wiping off a treacherous tear that had dared to roll down his cheek.

“It’s fine. You did help me in the end, so… You were really good at your job. Do you mind me asking why you left?"

You left, so I did too.

“I, uh… I guess, long story short, Steve is now my agent and I’m booking gigs all over the country. Well, just a few cities for now, but I’m planning to keep growing.”

"No shit!" Eddie laughed. If felt like an explosion inside Richie's chest. Was it wrong to feel this happy when Eddie didn't know? Was it wrong to keep making conversation when his real intentions were unknown to Eddie? Should he had just made up an excuse and hung up when he found out Eddie didn't remember him? But he didn't want to hang up. He wanted to keep talking. Just a little more. Just a little.

“I’m actually in Phoenix now,” Richie said, falling on the bed, curling up with the phone on his ear. “Things are going pretty well.”

“That’s so cool! Wow, I’m really happy for you, Richie! I did get a promotion too. I’m officially a risk analyst, I’ve got my own office, my own company car, and my own company phone. I even gave the downpayment for a house! I have a mortgage now. So I’m officially boring,” Eddie laughed. “You can say that on your act now, and you’ll be totally right.”

“You’re not boring,” Richie smiled, pressing his lips together and trying to ease down the caring tone. They weren’t a couple. They weren’t even friends, not in Eddie’s eyes. He tried to make a joke, think fast, say something to prove he was the same Richie Eddie remembered. He came out with nothing. “I’m… pretty happy for you. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Richie,” Eddie said, his voice softening too. Part of Richie wondered if he could be able to make Eddie fall for him all over again, just like that, talking on the phone. “Well, if you ever come to New York, you should come say hi. Maybe we could have a coffee if you’re not too famous by then.”

“Deal,” Richie answered.

*

“I need to go to New York.”

Steve gave him a weird look. It was okay, Richie could explain. He couldn’t tell Eddie the truth, he couldn’t risk hurting Eddie or even worse, make him think Richie was crazy. No one told Richie the truth, he had to remember by himself, the same with Eddie. Part of Richie had hoped the phone call could make Eddie’s memories come back but that didn’t happen, so the only other option was going to New York and talking to Eddie face to face, and if that didn’t happen, well… Richie would stay around until it worked.

“It will take time, and I can’t promise you it’ll work,” Steve said.

“I don’t care. He doesn’t remember, which means he’s not hurting. I won’t get in contact with him again, not until I get a permanent job in the city. I don’t care what job it is, Steve, you hook me up with anything you find. I don’t care if I end up presenting the news for a local TV. And, Steve…” Richie looked at him with pleading eyes. “You can’t let me forget him. Now I’m the only one who remembers everything and I can’t… You need to do this for me, Steve.”

“Sure, Rich…” Steve shrugged, looking down. That didn’t sound convincing. Richie needed something firm. He didn’t need a shrug.

“What?” He asked, and Steve looked at him with his jaw clenched. “What is it? Just spill it!”

“Nothing! It’s just…” Steve took a deep breath, avoiding Richie’s eyes when he said. “You’re happier when you don’t remember him.”

Richie frowned, feeling pressure in his chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Steve?”

“The truth!” Steve said, and he looked like he was in pain but Richie couldn’t understand. “I’m sorry Richie, but you don’t know how it is to see it from the outside. You’re the ghost of what you used to be. You're always sulking or plotting or… fucking crying because of him. And you've been worse since that phone call!" Steve shook his head, laughing desperate. "There are moments, not that many, when you wake up or when you head out of the stage, when you're smiling bright and talking nonsense and making jokes and I know, I can feel it, right then you don't remember him. And then I fucking say his name and you fade away all over again. And it's so painful to watch, Richie… you have no idea."

"Well, it's supposed to be painful!" Richie threw his hands in the air. "Do you even know how it is to have someone who means so much for you and just lose it? What would you do if your mom suddenly didn't know you exist? If she had forgotten about you, about everything you shared, about…" Richie rubbed his eyes under his glasses, pressing the bridge of his nose. "Eddie was my _family_, Steve. I was his. Growing up in that hell of a town where children were missing every fucking day, where kids like us were murdered… and our families didn’t give a shit. And I know, I know there was something wrong with the town because I know my parents love me. I know that now, but it didn’t feel like that back then. And I was a lucky one, my parents just fucking ignored me, but you don’t even know what Eddie went through, what some of the others went through, Bill and Bev and… We survived because of us. We stayed strong together. And then something… some _thing_ made us forget about each other, and I’ve felt lost since then. So yeah, it may hurt now, but fuck, I want it that way, I want it to hurt, because if it hurts it means I remember him. If it hurts, it means I can get him back.”

Steve wouldn’t look at him, his head down, fidgeting with something in his fingers.

“I do know what it feels to lose someone, you know? I see you, every day, slowly turning into someone I don’t know, I don’t recognize.”

“Do you want my old self to be back?” Richie asked, stepping towards Steve to get his attention, to make him look up at him. “Help me get to New York. Help me get Eddie back.”

He understood Steve. He really did. But Steve needed to understand him too. Steve was Richie's only hope and suddenly it felt like he was leaving his destiny in the hands of someone who wasn't fit for the task. Richie had never doubted Steve before, but something was unsettling in the way Steve looked at him sometimes when they talked about Eddie.

Maybe he was getting really paranoid. Could Steve betray him like that? But then again, maybe it wasn't even Steve. Richie knew back in Derry people acted the worst way possible because there was that thing, the clown, It, pushing them to be the worst version of themselves. Could It reach them in Phoenix, too? Could It reach Steve?

“I know what you want,” Richie said, alone in his room. “You want us to forget because you’re afraid of us. We beat you once and we can do it again, we promised we would do it again if you ever came back, so you want us to forget because you know the moment you stick out your ugly head we’re going to come for you and smash you back into nothing. But it’s not going to work. You touched us but you didn’t touch Steve, so you can’t reach him. And once Eddie and I are back together, you won’t reach us either.”

It couldn’t reach Steve. Steve had nothing to do with It. Steve had never been to Derry, so It couldn’t have any sort of influence on him.

But maybe It didn’t need to. Maybe Steve had his own reasons. Maybe…

Richie grabbed a marker from his desk and pushed up his shirt. He wrote it big on the inside of his forearm. “REMEMBER HIM”. He didn’t doubt Steve. He didn’t want to doubt Steve. But just in case…

*

Maybe it was the reminder written on his skin, the one he kept writing every night before going to sleep, but Richie started to feel a little less anxious about everything related to Eddie. He was still doing a great stand-up every night, and he also was paying more attention to Steve. After all, he was right, Richie hadn’t been acting like the best friend lately, and he owed Steve a lot to repay him like that. Steve was a good friend. He was. He didn’t even judge Richie when he saw the writing on his arms. He just understood and let it go.

They started going out more, talking more. Richie told him about the other losers. It helped him keep the memories fresh but also included Steve in, making him feel somehow part of the group. Richie wondered where the others were now. He doubted they had stayed in Derry. He didn't remember a lot but he was sure most of them had gone to study out of state. It would be impossible to find them, and that considering they would have stayed in the States. He wouldn’t be surprised if Beverly or Ben had ended up living abroad.

“Mike always talked about Florida. Maybe he’s there hunting alligators,” Richie said, a nostalgic smile opening on his face. “You think we could ever book a gig in Florida?”

“I don’t know… but I know we can book a gig in Nashville, New Orleans, Austin, Salt Lake City, and fucking Toronto," Steve said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Wait, what? What do you mean??" Richie couldn't help the excited tone of his voice, because if Steve meant what Richie thought he meant, then that meant…

“We’re going on tour, baby!”

"No way!!" Richie jumped up from his seat, laughing like a maniac.

“Yes way!” Steve laughed too, hugging Richie when he threw himself at him. “I didn’t want to say anything until I had everything figured out, but you’re killing it here, and I’ve sent a bunch of videotapes, made a few calls, and right when you finish this season here we’re going on tour!”

“We’re going on tour!” Richie yelled, jumping and hugging Steve closer. “We’re going to fucking Canada!” He opened his eyes wide. What the hell?

“We’re going to fucking Canada, man. I told you, I knew it. You’re the real deal, Richie.” Steve put his hands on Richie’s shoulders, looking at him with the biggest smile on his face.

“Fuck, I can’t believe it,” Richie let himself fall on the nearest couch with a nervous giggle. Then he looked up at Steve. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could. You totally could. But I’m glad I got to be part of it.”

“Fuck, come here,” Richie laughed, pulling at Steve’s shirt to make him fall on the couch as well, hugging him again, pressing him tight against him. “What do you want to do? Let’s fucking celebrate. On me. Whatever you want, Steve,” he asked, still pressed together.

“Well, it’s been a long time since we partied like we used to,” Steve opened a mischievous smile. “What do you say? Next Saturday we go crazy?”

“Oh, man, you can bet on it.”

Richie couldn’t believe his luck. Knowing people liked his act, knowing they wanted him, not only in Phoenix but around the whole fucking country, even out of it, was like getting an adrenaline shot right in his chest. He was ecstatic, beaming, sporting a 1000 watts smile 24/7, shining so much people needed fucking sunglasses to look at him.

He was happy. He didn't think he had felt this happy in a really long time. He even incorporated it in his act, the thing about touring, because a little self-promotion never hurt anyone, and by the day Saturday came he was eager to just let himself go and have fun like he hadn't had in a long time.

“Look at you, dressed to impress,” Steve laughed when Richie twirled in front of him.

“What does that mean? Do I look hot? Is that what you mean?”

“The hottest.”

"Steve, I'm young and famous, I need to dress accordingly," Richie explained, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them up. "What about now? Isn't this the look that gets all the ladies wet?"

“Oh, yeah, I have the biggest boner right now,” Steve laughed again.

“I knew you’d understand.”

Richie didn't know a lot of places to go party, but of course, Steve had the right contacts for everything because he was a hell of an agent, so as soon as they left their apartment they were heading to a very select club where the people were pretty, the music was loud, and the lights were dim because "you can't make up a career if you show yourself around totally wasted."

“Isn’t that how a lot of musicians have made their career, though?”

“You’re a comedian, Richie. People want to laugh with you, not at you.”

“So that means I should stop showing my dick around?”

Richie knew they were in the right place when he had his first drink, smooth and expensive and the kind of alcohol you know won’t totally fuck you up the morning after. He made a pun about bad lovers and drank, reminding Steve to come here more often. Steve said something about Richie being too much of a moody teenager lately to take him out anywhere. Richie just laughed, brushed it off with: “I’m an artist, man!” and grabbed Steve’s hand to drag him to the dance floor.

It has been so long since he danced. It felt like a decade. The music was all right and the drinks were so good they made the perfect combination for Richie to just let himself go. Steve asked him if he wanted to maybe have something else, but Richie passed. He didn’t really know why, he was never shy about getting a little extra boost, but something inside him told him he shouldn’t do it, and Richie just followed the voice.

“Maybe this means I’m getting more mature. I’m older. Wiser. Like a good wine,” Richie said, getting close to Steve’s ear so he could hear him above the music.

"More like whiskey," Steve laughed, looking at the glass in Richie's hand. "How many of those have you had already?"

Richie just shrugged and laughed, and he kept moving to the rhythm of the music.

He was maybe getting a little fuck up, maybe to the point of the quality of the alcohol not really mattering anymore because he was going to end up puking anyway, but wasn’t that the point? He was celebrating, goddammit, what if he wanted to get shitfaced and dance and drink his way through the night?

“Girls just wanna have fun, you know?” Richie explained to a very amused Steve. “I wanna have fun. Look,” he said, pointing at two guys making out on the dance floor. “They look like they’re having fun.”

And now that Richie paid attention, a lot of guys looked like having fun, exactly that kind of fun, and Richie suddenly felt really hot all over, drinking from his glass because his mouth felt dry. He looked back a Steve. Sneaky Steve, he knew what this place was.

“You look like you wanna have their kind of fun,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. Richie brought a hand to his chest, faking shock.

“Steve? Is this your way of saying you want my body??”

“Yours? Not sure, but his…” Steve pointed at a very good looking guy dancing all alone. “I could have a piece of that.”

“Oh, he’s…” Yeah, Richie could understand why Steve could want a piece of that. “Must be tough not being around Kyle. It’s been months since we left L.A.”

“Not that much. You know, Kyle and I have some kind of, like, an open relationship, so…”

“So that means you’ve been fucking guys since we got here?? Steve!!” Richie laughed at his friend’s guilty face.

“Not many! Not as much as I wanted, at least. Being your agent is hard, and being your friend is harder. You’re a demanding bitch,” Steve laughed too, looking at Richie and getting closer to speak. “But I’m honestly in need right now.”

"In need of some cock?" Richie gave him a knowing smile.

“God, _yes_,” Steve almost moaned dramatically. Richie felt a shiver run down his spine.

It was long since the last time he touched somebody, wasn't it? His mind was probably playing tricks on him. He was used to playing around a little with Steve, some teasing, some sex innuendos, the usual. He was a comedian, it was what he did. It didn’t mean he liked Steve that way, it didn’t mean he wanted Steve. And he didn’t even like guys anyway. He joked about it but he didn’t want to do it. It was just… he had been so busy working, and those guys were making out like they wanted to eat themselves alive, practically fucking on the dance floor and Richie was just human, his cock was just a human cock, which meant it didn’t really know what was going on, it just wanted some action, but that didn’t mean Richie would…

“Would you hate me too much if I left you for about ten minutes?” Steve asked, putting a hand on Richie’s shoulder and leaning in. “That guy is giving me blowjob eyes, I swear to God…”

“How do you even―” Richie scoffed a laugh, shifted, felt a tightness growing in his pants.

“Richieee, come on! I wanna get my cock sucked!” Steve grumbled. “I’ll be back, okay?”

“What about my cock? Does my cock not deserve to get sucked as well?” Richie asked, making Steve laugh out loud.

“I bet he’s got a friend,” Steve just said, patting Richie’s back and moving away.

Richie moved too, towards the bar, to ask for another drink.

*

When Richie woke up he couldn't feel his face. He was tangled on bed covers, lying on the floor, one shoe missing and his shirt half-open. He sat up and looked around, watching Steve wake up in that exact moment too. That alcohol really was good, because by judging the state of their living room Richie knew his hangover could be a lot worse. There were bottles and glasses and rests of what looked like cocaine on their coffee table, a lot of mess for just the two of them. The blender was there too, half-filled with some pink beverage, like someone had decided they wanted a strawberry smoothie through the course of the night.

“What time is it?” Steve sat up too, the fabric covering him sliding down to reveal a very naked body under it. Richie frowned.

“Shit. We didn’t fuck last night, right?” He asked, making Steve scoff a laugh.

"Dude, don't be gross. You're like my brother…" he made a face, rubbing his eyes. "You might have seen me getting fucked, though. I'm not sure." Steve chuckled. "In my defense, I will say you looked backout drunk, and I was very horny. I thought you were asleep or passed out."

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you getting fucked, so let’s pretend it never happened,” Richie said, standing up and trying to remember how to balance his body on his feet and going to the kitchen to drink some water.

At least the house wasn’t as trashed as Richie would expect after a night of sex, drugs, and alcohol. Maybe he was getting wiser after all, or maybe he was just old and couldn’t party as hard anymore. He filled a glass of water and chugged it down, feeling his body craving the hydration. He put the glass down on the counter, and then he saw it. The words, almost faded away, written on his forearm.

“Oh, fuck!” He palmed his face. “Steve!”

“What is it?” Steve voices came from the living room, and then he appeared, wearing the bed covers as a toga.

“Dude, did I hook up with someone last night? Did I hook up with a _guy?”_

“What?” Steve laughed, making a weird face. “Why?”

“This. This here,” he showed Steve his arm. “_Remember him_. Who am I supposed to remember? Did I fuck someone?”

Steve didn’t say a word. He just looked at Richie’s arm, blinking, his mouth opening and closing but no sound came out of it.

He looked up at Richie.

“I don’t know, man… I barely remember what I did…”

“Fuck,” Richie rolled his eyes, opening the faucet on the kitchen sink and getting and pouring some dish soap on a cloth. “I hope I didn’t do anything stupid. That’s all I need now, some guy bad-mouthing me because I was awful at sucking cock…”

“Don’t worry, Rich,” Steve sat in front of him. “I’m sure you’re pretty good at sucking cock.” He laughed, making Richie laugh too.

He scrubbed his forearm clean, asking Steve if he wanted to go get some breakfast.


	14. He

Steve Covall was a good guy. He had been working in the entertainment business since he was nineteen, when he created a stupid underground radio show along with his friends from school and it somehow gained popularity. He was born and raised in Los Angeles, one of the few, and he had seen many people come and go, thinking they were the big deal, saying they would become the next this or that. Some of them had made it, most of them had failed.

He studied to be a High Tech. in Audiovisual and Show Editing, because he thought to be behind the cameras would get him better possibilities to actually making a living in the entertainment industries. Then he found out there were still a lot of people with the same aspirations and better connected than him. He landed at The Spot when it was just a creepy place where people went so see obscure representations of plays no one had ever heard of before. He liked it better back then. A few years later someone bought the place and Mr. Bartlow came and made a few changes. Steve stayed.

His job was boring, but it paid the bills and had enough free time to actually have a social life. He didn’t need to hide his sexuality there either, what was a good thing he couldn’t say about a lot of other places. Steve wasn’t particularly interested in sharing his personal life in the workplace, he liked his private life to be private, but he was out and he didn’t want to hide either.

A lot of people stood under Steve’s spotlights, some of them good, most of them mediocre, the usual in L.A. It was The Spot, after all, no one expected to find gold in there. Steve remembers well the day a gangly kid with long messy hair and a questionable fashion taste stepped on stage for the first time. He wasn’t part of the cast but he had learned all the lines and he came in just to replace someone for a few days. Right there, under the spotlight, Richie was shining. He would be shining even if there were no lights at all. Steve knew immediately. That was gold.

They became friends almost immediately. Richie looked eager to find someone to talk to, to laugh with. It was like he truly hated being alone, feeling alone, and Steve knew that wasn’t the best trait for someone who lived in L.A. The city was great for opportunities but people mostly cared about themselves, saw other people more like competition instead of human beings. Maybe Steve was just tired of fake people and Richie looked too much like a lost puppy, but they clicked. It had been a long time since Steve had clicked with someone he didn’t want to bang. Of course, that wasn’t supposed to be an option because Richie was allegedly straight.

He wasn’t. It was pretty obvious for Steve, but he guessed Richie could maybe fool other people, mostly straight people. He wasn’t effeminate or any of those stereotypes gay guys had to suffer, he was kind of clunky, his hair was long but messy, and he looked like he hadn’t bought any new clothes since he was in high school, so yeah, he looked pretty straight. However, there was something in the way he moved, his quick remarks, his wits, and especially the kind of jokes he made that immediately caught Steve’s attention. Only pretty confident straight guys acted the way Richie acted, and Richie wasn’t confident at all, so he wasn’t straight.

When Richie started talking about the risk analyst Steve felt amused, but mostly happy. He had seen girls come and go from Richie’s life and he knew what the real deal was, but he wouldn’t be the one to push Richie to accept things he wasn’t ready to accept. Steve knew some people need more time, a sign maybe, or some others never find the courage to act at all. It was okay. Life wasn’t easy for people like them, no matter how accepting the entertainment business claimed to be. Richie liked girls (too), so he could hide behind that.

But Eddie came and there was no hiding anymore. He did try, for a while, to pretend nothing was going on but, as time passed, it became more and more difficult. Richie was too obvious, for the world and for himself. So he finally acted on his feelings, and oh boy did he change. Steve had never seen Richie shine so bright.

He thought maybe that was the beginning of Richie exploring that side of him, finally feeling free enough to accept himself and embrace it. He didn’t expect Richie to fall in love. Yes, Richie was kind of intense when it came to all kinds of relationships, but Eddie had an expiration date. He would be around just for three months, there was no point in investing so much time and dedication in a relationship that was doomed from the start.

Maybe Steve ignored the signs because he liked seeing Richie so happy, he liked how it affected to Richie’s work too, how much more open he was, fresher. Steve wanted the best for Richie. He never thought things could get this messy. He never thought Richie would fall in love.

At first, it was awful. Eddie had a girlfriend, after all, and Richie wasn’t even out yet, so he wouldn’t talk to Steve that much about it, but Steve could see it.Richie didn’t need to talk for Steve to see there was something wrong. He would show it, in the way he talked, in the way he worked, in the light fading off of his face. Then all that shit with Mark happened and, of course, Eddie decided he wouldn’t let Richie move on. So Steve had to watch his pretty damaged friend walk away and go home with the guy who had cock-blocked him and was the reason he was so miserable.

No, Steve didn’t like Eddie that much. Of course he never said that to Richie because it didn’t matter. Richie loved him and that was it. Eddie wasn’t a bad guy either, but he had too many things to work on and, honestly, Steve just wanted Richie to have it easy. Maybe it was because he somehow felt responsible for Richie’s wellbeing, like a big brother, although he wasn’t much older than Richie. When they first met Richie looked too naïve, too innocent for a city like L.A. and Steve had wanted to protect him since then. With Eddie, though, Steve knew there was no way he could help Richie from getting hurt.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together. I remember the way that guy talked about security and hygiene and just being safe. How he allows you to even touch him is beyond me.”

“You’d be surprised…” Richie said under his breath. Steve met Richie’s grin with a dead look. No, he didn’t want to know. “It’s the power of love, Steve!”

Love. There was the cursed word. It was love, no matter how much Richie tried to make it sound like he was joking, Steve knew the truth. It showed.

“Love is something straight guys invented so they could hook a nice girl and prevent her from going out looking for a better alternative.”

He wished Richie could find a better alternative. But it was impossible, right? Richie had fallen and there was no way he was going to even look at anyone else apart from Eddie. Steve wasn’t strange to fall in love with a person who will break your heart. He knew the kind of hurt Richie was going to suffer, and he hated not being able to spare him.

Sometimes he really wanted Eddie to break Richie’s heart. If he was going to do it anyway, better do it as soon as possible. He wanted to find out dirt on Eddie, he wanted Eddie to be an awful person, to do something wrong, anything that proved he wasn’t worth it. He knew it was insane, and probably not a very healthy thing to do, but he felt responsible for Richie, and he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to Richie because he wasn’t paying enough attention.

So he paid attention. He paid attention when they talked and when they laughed and when they made jokes and when they shared small touches. Steve could see the way Eddie looked at Richie, how his eyes would shine and his smile would open huge and dumb, giggling at whatever stupid joke Richie made, touching him like he didn’t want to break him.

He couldn’t hate Eddie. No matter how much he tried or how much he wanted to, it was impossible. Eddie loved Richie. He really did, which only made the story even more tragic.

So the only thing Steve ended up hating was the situation.

There was nothing he could do to get Richie to cheer up, and it became even worse when Eddie’s company called him back earlier than expected. Richie wasn’t used to sharing his feelings, he usually just made jokes about things that bothered him and pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind. With Eddie leaving and the uncertainty of where their relationship would end, Richie couldn’t hide his emotions anymore.

The day before Eddie leaving Richie spent the whole morning helping him pack things up, like the mere departure wasn’t enough torture. Steve wasn’t surprised when Richie called him later that day and asked him if he wanted to hang out, maybe play video-games, drink some beers, take the bad thoughts out of his mind for a minute. He tried to act like everything was okay, talking to Richie like he couldn’t see how hollow his eyes looked. Richie told him about the pictures Eddie had been taken so they would remember each other. It was a cute idea. A cruel one too.

“I can ask Kyle,” Steve said when Richie asked him about the pictures his friends had taken the night they went out together. “I’m pretty sure he snapped a few of both of you, although there are some others where you and Mark look pretty intimate,” He pointed out with a smug smile. He just wanted to make Richie laugh. Richie rolled his eyes instead. So, not as funny as Steve had thought.

“Shit, I had forgotten about that dude…” Richie said, making a face. “Ask Kyle anyway. Any picture would be fine, even if we’re just in the background. We took a picture of our lunch. I guess he wants me to remember him every time I eat a sandwich. The shitty thing is I probably will,” he sighed. “I’ll look at any food and think of him and I won’t be able to eat at all and I’ll die. Way to go. Richie Tozier, comedian, died of lovesickness.”

“Didn’t you want to have a tragic death so everyone would love you and you’d become famous?” Steve asked. “I think dying of love is tragic enough. You know, pretty Lord Byron-esque.”

“You know I hate you, right Steve? I really hope you know that.” Richie sounded tired but he was smiling and that was a good sign.

Steve was glad they could at least joke around a little, even if it was just to mask how awful things really were.

And then, all of a sudden Richie was talking on the phone with Eddie and he started shaking and Steve could only thing about what else could go wrong. Richie didn’t make any sense, he started talking about greywater and sewers and clowns and he looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Steve tried to calm him down but it was useless. He just said a bunch of incoherent things and left, and Steve just stood there, in the middle of his living room, overwhelmed by the sudden silence when there had been chaos right there just a second ago.

*

After that, things got messy.

It was true Steve had heard Richie talk about a special connection between him and Eddie. He even used the word “soulmate” maybe once or twice, and that was not a word Steve thought he would hear coming out of Richie’s mouth. Steve never paid too much attention, to be honest. He knew the feeling, he had been in love before, he knew sometimes you look at a person and the only things you can see are the things you want to see. That usually fades away with time, and Steve thought the same would happen with Richie and Eddie.

When Richie called him early in the morning the day Eddie was leaving Steve wasn’t surprised. He understood why Richie wouldn’t want to be the one driving all the way to the airport to drop Eddie there just to come back home alone after losing someone so important.

“I need to tell you something,” it was the first thing Richie had said to him the moment they got in the car, and he never mentioned any other word.

They dropped Eddie at the airport and Steve moved away to give them some privacy, some space to say goodbye before Eddie needed to take his flight. When they drove back, Richie looked devastated, so Steve didn’t have the heart to bring the conversation up. He wasn’t sure about what Richie wanted to tell him although he had his suspicions. He just let Richie take his time and talk when he was ready.

It turned out Richie wouldn’t be ready until hours after that. The first thing he did when they got to his apartment was going straight to bed. Steve imagined they would have stayed the night awake, so he couldn’t blame Richie. Instead, Steve moved around in the kitchen and made some coffee, then went to the nearest store to buy some eggs and went back to Richie’s to watch some TV until Richie decided to resurface to the land of the living.

He looked like shit when he did, like a zombie from the movies Steve used to see when he was a kid: slow and tired and slightly broken. Steve moved back to the kitchen to prepared some scrambled eggs and toasts. He wasn’t particularly good in the kitchen, but Richie looked like he needed to eat or else he would die on the spot.

They both ate and drank coffee in silence. Steve didn’t say a thing. It was Richie’s choice if he wanted to talk or if he just wanted to exist.

“I need to tell you something,” Richie said after a while.

“Is it about the mental breakdown you had over the phone with Eddie?” Steve asked, and Richie smiled, still weak and tired, and not looking at him.

“He really is someone special, you know? He is my best friend,” Richie chuckled, looking at his coffee mug. Steve was about to say something, something like ‘I understand what you’re feeling’ or ‘I know you see him that way’ or any other stupid thing you say in moments like these, but then Richie continued. “He is Eddie Kaspbrak, from Derry, Maine. We went to elementary school together. We went to high school together. We’ve walked through greywater together in the sewers back in that hell of a town, and we’ve fought a murderer together.”

“Wait, what??”

It sounded completely crazy. Steve really wanted to take a minute to process the information but it was like Richie had opened the gates of some repressed memories and now he couldn’t stop talking, he couldn’t hold the words.

So they were friends, or so Richie said. They had been friends for the most part of their life. Their town really sounded like a shitty place and, honestly, Maine?? Steve would never have thought Richie was originally from Maine. They dealt with really hardcore bullies in school and Steve knew a thing or two about those. The adults never seemed to care and Steve knew about that too. But then things got darker.

“The children started missing,” Richie explained, putting down his mug but not meeting Steve’s eyes, like he was still lost in his memories, like he needed to see them so he could believe them. “They were our age, maybe younger, and nobody seemed to care. They went missing and nobody looked for them. There were just those stupid posters all over the town, but the moment another one disappeared, everybody forgot about the previous one. And there were a lot of them.”

“Shit, Richie… that sounds scary.”

“Oh, you don’t even know,” Richie laughed, shaking his head. “You knew you could be the next because, why not? What made you so special? Someone, something was hunting us down… And then Eddie saw it. I think he saw it first, I don’t…” Richie rubbed his eyes, sighing.

“Saw it? Saw what?” Steve asked. Richie looked at him this time, taking a deep breath.

“The clown.”

It should have been funny. It sounded like one of Richie’s jokes, like some elaborated prank, if it wasn’t because Richie looked utterly terrified.

“It was killing them. It was killing… us. It fed on children. It ate them.”

“Richie, Jesus Christ!” Steve stood up from his seat, moving around the kitchen. He felt sick. “Are you sure? You were a kid, you could…”

“We found pieces!” Richie cut him, looking desperate. “We found clothes that belonged to them, we found… body parts. In the sewers.”

Steve was going to be sick.

Richie kept talking and Steve forced his brain to understand, no matter how crazy it seemed. It was clear that was something that really affected Richie, so he knew there had to be something real about it, but it was obvious there had to be some fantasy too.

“I’m not making this up,” Richie said, probably reading Steve’s face a little too well.

“I’m not saying you’re making things up… I’m just saying maybe you’re confused. I mean, you have to admit it’s a pretty weird thing to be friends with someone for almost ten years, someone who was that important, and then forget about the whole thing.”

“It had to be because of the clown. That thing did something to us…” Richie insisted, and Steve sighed. “Look, maybe it wasn’t something supernatural, okay? Maybe it was just trauma! People were dying. Children were getting killed!”

“That’s exactly why I think you can’t really trust your memory of that time, Rich. Awful things happened and maybe your mind made you…”

“Wait. I’ll prove it to you,” Richie cut him, taking his phone and scrolling through the names on his contact list.

And that’s when things got even weirder.

It was true. Maybe not the thing about the supernatural clown (or at least that’s what Steve hoped), but it was true they had been friends in the past. It was true he and Eddie had shared a life together when they were kids. It was impossible Richie’s dad remembered someone’s name who he had never heard before, and the fucking pictures… Jesus Christ, Richie had changed a little, but Eddie still looked the same. It was undoubtedly him.

“You guys seem so close,” Steve said, inspecting the pictures. “Shit, I can’t believe your crazy story was true. I mean, look at you, guys! Eddie hasn’t changed at all, how did you forget? And not just about him, the rest of them too. You look…”

“Like a family.” Richie finished, nodding. “We were. This forgetting about each other thing… it’s not natural. I know what you think, Steve,” Richie cut him before Steve could say something, “but I need you to promise me something. You need to promise me you’ll remind me. If I ever look like I forgot or if I start to forget… you can’t let that happen.”

Well, that didn’t seem like a hard task.

“Okay,” Steve said immediately. “Of course, man.”

*

It ended up being the hardest task Steve had ever faced.

It wasn’t like that at first. At first, it was easy. He didn’t really need to do anything, to be honest, just indulge Richie in conversations about Eddie most times, which wasn’t difficult because they could spend hours on the phone when both of them were free. It was almost funny to see Richie act like an over-excited puppy when he saw Eddie’s name on his cellphone’s screen.

Until it stopped.

It made Steve start to think maybe Richie wasn’t crazy at all when he talked about _It _and it being responsible for them forgetting each other. It was absurd, it didn’t make sense, but how the hell could Eddie stop calling just like that overnight? It was unexpected and sudden and, honestly, even Steve felt a little bit betrayed because he had trusted Eddie too. He knew Eddie didn’t have anybody back there in New York to help him remember Richie, no one who even knew Richie’s existence, but anyway, did he not take any precautions not to forget?

Steve tried to protect Richie as much as he could, taking care of the situation and contacting Eddie’s office, making up excuses and finally getting Eddie’s new number. Hearing Eddie’s voice for the first time after that was one of the most surreal experiences Steve had lived. Eddie really had no idea who they were. He remembered their names, yes, but just the same way Steve remembered the names of every member of the cast and crew working at The Spot. That didn’t mean he _knew_ them. And Eddie didn’t know them.

It broke Richie’s heart. It broke him.

He wasn’t just sad, he wasn’t disappointed. He just… he wasn’t Richie anymore. He was always angry, irritated, he barely talked to Steve unless it was work-related and he wouldn’t leave his room the days he didn’t need to perform. It was like living with a stranger, and Steve couldn’t help to fear what would happen if Richie continued to be that way, if it could get worse, if he could really lose Richie… if Richie could lose himself.

It reminded him of his younger self, when he was in high school and the world was too unbearable, when he started college thinking things would change but people were the same, only now they were careful not to leave a visible mark when they hurt you. It remind him of those dark times when he thought maybe dealing with so much pain wasn’t worth it.

Eddie had been a good thing, a great thing, but right now it was hurting Richie, and Richie was either too blind to see it or too deep in shit to even care.

“You’re happier when you don’t remember him.”

Steve had never argued with Richie, not like they did when Steve mentioned that. It was the truth and Richie hated it, like drug addict unable to see he was slowly killing himself, only he was hooked on a memory.

“It’s supposed to be painful,” Richie had said, spitting the words like they were laced with poison. “I want it that way, I want it to hurt, because if it hurts it means I remember him. If it hurts, it means I can get him back.”

And Steve didn’t know what to do. He wanted to ask, “can’t you say how crazy that sounds? Can’t you see you’re not in your right mind?” But he didn’t say it. He knew it wouldn't matter. Instead, he heard, he listened. “Help me get to New York,” Richie had said, so that’s what Steve would do. If he couldn’t be Richie’s friend, at least he could be the best agent he could.

That was an easier task. Richie was good. In fact, Richie had only gotten better. His work was the only thing that hasn’t been affected by anything that had happened, and it was a sight to see, Richie walking on stage and instantly killing it. People loved him, he loved them, and right in those moments, Steve could still see a glimpse of that cheerful and happy guy he had met for the first time so many years ago.

So Steve never mentioned the issue with Eddie again, he just focused on encouraging Richie to keep improving his performances, to keep writing more. He videotaped almost every performance and edited the best to send them everywhere, to every casting call, to every production company, to every little theatre in every important city in America but especially in New York. That was Richie’s goal, so that was Steve’s job.

He never heard back from any place in New York, and he wasn’t really surprised. But he did hear from a lot of other places, more than he ever thought. Richie’s name was getting bigger and people wanted him. They wanted him so much suddenly Steve found himself booking gigs for Richiein Nashville, New Orleans, Austin, Salt Lake City, and even fucking Toronto. Touring meant getting bigger, and getting bigger meant more opportunities for Richie to get to New York.

He couldn’t wait to tell Richie. He knew, of all things, that would be something that could make him happy, truly happy, and Steve really wanted to see Richie smile again. But he did wait, he waited for the right moment, he waited so they could celebrate properly. He pulled some strings and got them invited to a very select and private club. Partying hard was not bad now and then, but getting headlines on the press wasn’t the best thing for an upcoming artist. According to Richie, he wouldn’t go too crazy anyway.

He did.

Well, they did.

Thank God there were no cameras there.

Steve woke up and his mouth tasted like an ashtray although he didn’t remember smoking at all. Richie didn’t look better than how Steve felt, and their apartment painted a pretty explicit picture of what had happened the night before. At least Richie was mostly clothed, not like him. Memories started to come back slowly as he remembered when and why he took off his clothes. He really hoped Richie was too wasted to remember what he could have seen.

He waited for Richie to leave so he could improvise some kind of clothes with the bedsheet they had woken up covered with, rolling it around his body toga-style. Then he heard Richie yell.

“Oh, fuck! Steve!”

“What is it?” He closed his eyes when he tried to take the first step. Shit, his head was going to kill him. He wasn’t young enough to do those kind of things anymore. He went to the kitchen where Richie was drinking a glass of water. Good idea.

“Dude, did I hook up with someone last night? Did I hook up with a guy?”

Steve blinked a couple of times. Why kind of question was that?

“What?” He laughed, making a face. “Why?”

“This. This here,” Richie showed Steve his arm. “Remember him. Who am I supposed to remember? Did I fuck someone?”

Steve fixed his eyes on Richie’s arm. REMEMBER HIM. He had seen those words before, he knew exactly what those words meant, Richie himself had told him. Just a reminder. Just in case. But it still hadn’t work, right?

For a second Steve thought Richie was testing him. He would ask and, depending on Steve’s answer, Richie would determine if Steve was enough of a good friend or not. But no, Richie wasn’t like that. And he really seemed completely confused.

Could he have forgotten? So soon?

He looked up at Richie and decided to play it safe, although his chest was hammering hard in his chest.

“I don’t know, man… I barely remember what I did…”

“Fuck,” Richie rolled his eyes, opening the faucet on the kitchen sink and getting and pouring some dish soap on a cloth. “I hope I didn’t do anything stupid. That’s all I need now, some guy bad-mouthing me because I was awful at sucking cock…”

He didn’t know. _He didn’t know_. He had no idea. He had forgotten Eddie.

“Don’t worry, Rich,” Steve sat in front of him, still unsure of what he was witnessing. “I’m sure you’re pretty good at sucking cock.” He laughed, making Richie laugh too.

“I don’t want to think about it,” Richie said. “Let’s get some breakfast. I’m fucking starving,” he added, scrubbing his forearm clean like it was nothing, like those words meant nothing.

“Sure, uh… let me…”

“Yeah, you better put on some real clothes, like human ones,” Richie laughed when Steve stood up again, taking a few steps towards the hallway to get to his room. Steve stopped in the middle of his way, turning back and looking at Richie.

“Actually… I don’t think I feel so good,” Steve gave Richie a weak smile. “I think I’m gonna take a shower and… do you mind going for some coffee and, I don’t know, I’m craving banana pancakes for some reason.”

“Sure man. I’ll see what I can do.”

Steve covered his face with his hands the moment Richie walked out the door.

He went straight to the shower, hoping the hot water would help him clear his thoughts. Was he doing the right thing? Richie looked normal, he looked fine, he looked like his friend Richie, the one he used to know… Maybe he looked too much like the Richie he used to know, like the Richie who still wasn’t brave enough to fully accept himself.

No, but that Richie was happy! That Richie was always joking around and smiling and… he was closeted. Steve remembered being closeted. He wasn’t happy, but he hid it well. Maybe Richie had spent all his life hiding it too. Shit, the shower wasn’t helping at all. Steve turned off the faucet and rolled a towel around his hips, walking to his room.

He opened the drawers to get some clean clothes, looking at a notebook he had kept in there too since he brought it along when they came from L.A., a notebook he had kept hidden since they arrived in Phoenix, at first because he wanted it to be a surprise, and then because he didn’t know if it could do any good showing it to Richie.

He grabbed the notebook, leaving in on his bed and looking at it while he got dressed. It was a plain red book, fairly thin, nothing revealing on its cover. The important things were inside it. Steve sighed when he sat down on the bed, clothes on, taking the notebook and opening it.

Not that long ago Richie had asked him to develop some pictures Eddie had taken with a disposable camera the day before he left. He had also asked Steve to find the pictures Kyle had taken the night they went out together. By the time Steve had gotten those pictures, Richie had long forgotten about them. So Steve thought it would be nice to put all of them together in some kind of scrapbook, along with the pictures Richie’s dad had sent them, creating their story somehow, adding details Richie had told Steve about them, their childhood (the good things, not the scary parts).

But Eddie forgot and Richie changed, and the notebook became a shadow hidden inside Steve’s drawer, the reminder of the doomed relationship that had turned his best friend into an empty shell. Steve closed the book and closed his eyes too, covering his face with his hands. He couldn’t do it. It was too much.

Steve jumped when he heard the front door opening and closing, Richie’s singsong voice saying he was home. Steve collected himself and pushed his wet hair back, walking out of his room and into the living room, where Richie was putting the things he had bought on the coffee table.

“I couldn’t find anything close to banana pancakes, but I got us breakfast burritos, so I think that’s even better.”

“Richie… I can’t…”

He couldn’t even look at his face.

“What? Why?” Richie asked, clearly confused. “Do you want me to go back and get some donuts or something?”

“Rich, no, I…” Steve shook his head, bringing his hands to his face. Fuck, he didn’t fucking sign for this.

“Steve, are you okay, man?” Richie asked when Steve sat on the couch, his hands still covering his face.

“No,” he said because it was the truth.

“Do you need to take…”

“No, Richie, it’s not the hungover, okay? You really don’t…!” Steve stopped. It wasn’t Richie’s fault. Although it really was, actually. He put his hands down, looking at Richie. “You can’t ask me that much, man. You just can’t! I’m not…I can’t do it!”

“Steve, I have no idea what you’re—“

“I know! And that’s the worst part! Because you ask me to do something that’s just too big for me and then… I’m left alone! I can be your friend and I can be your agent, but I can’t be your… fuck, I don’t even know! I can’t be the link between you and the past, a past that’s not even part of me, a past that hurt you and… And what am I supposed to do?! Every way, I lose! If I keep reminding you, I hurt you because you remember and remembering hurts you, but if I let you forget, then I hurt you too! Because what if you find out the truth anyway? You’d… you’d hate me, and I’d hate myself for betraying you. And I can’t do it, man. I can’t make that decision for you. It’s your life!! Who am I to decide??”

“Steve, man, I truly…” Richie stopped when Steve handed him the notebook.

“Take it. Just. Just fucking take it and don’t make me talk about it ever again.” Steve pleaded, pushing his hand as far away from him as he could, like that notebook was toxic.

Richie took it and opened it. And Steve could saw it in his face, he didn’t need to say a word. The memories. They were coming back hard and fast. Steve felt weak, like he could pass out, like he wanted to cry, like his body couldn’t handle the situation, didn’t know how to do it.

“This is the last thing I do for you about this matter,” he said, holding back tears and watching Richie do the same as he turned the pages. “You can’t ask me to be involved in this, man. I feel like shit. I feel like you’re an addict and you’re asking me to hold your stash. I don’t want to be responsible if you end up killing yourself because of this… but I also don’t want to keep something from you, something that might be good, somehow. So I can’t do it. You will have to handle it yourself. If you want to keep remembering, keep the book on your bedside table, look at it every day, make fucking copies and glue them to the walls. We can talk about it, I have no problem with that. But don’t ask me to remind you if you ever forget again because, I swear to God, it feels like you’re asking me to pull the plug on my mom, and I can tell you she wouldn’t leave that decision to me. So, please… I’m sorry, Rich. I’m sorry. But I can’t.”

He did end up crying because he was a pussy after all, but it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his back too, and it was worth it. Or so he hoped. Richie hadn’t said a thing in a long time and Steve doubted he had even heard him at all. He kept looking at the notebook, at the pictures, once and again.

“Richie…? Please, say something.” Steve begged, and when Richie looked up at him, finally looked at him, he felt a twist in his stomach. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, Steve,” Richie shook his head, wiping the tears off his face. He closed the notebook and left it on the side, reaching for Steve’s hand. “I am sorry.”

Steve closed his eyes and finally, finally allowed himself to let it all out, crying like he hadn’t cried in a really long, long time. He hadn’t been aware of how much all of this had affected him until he had been able to talk it out.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I asked too much of you,” Richie tugged at his hand, pulling him for a hug. Steve welcomed it. Almost craved it.

“I tried, man. I just… I want you to be happy,” he tried to explain, but Richie shushed him.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, Steve. It was selfish of me. You’re a good friend,” Richie moved away to look at him, reassuring him. “You’re a good friend.”

And right there Steve really understood why Eddie had fallen in love so much with Richie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you hated Steve right away :( It kinda made me sad because he had been such a good friend all this time, and he really wanted the best for Richie, even if his judgement was wrong at first (or even if he hadn't rectified at all). I think we make mistakes sometimes and that doesn't mean we're a bad person, maybe it just means we're not ready to do what other people ask of us. Being weak or afraid or unable to make big decisions doesn't make you a worse friend, it just makes you a human being. So I'm still #TeamSteve no matter what


	15. Us (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I can't believe this is already over! And now looking at it I realize this story is so fucking LONG, like I don't know why or how you guys managed to read all of it and not get tired of my bullshit. But if you got here I want to tell you I really really appreciate you. And to all of you who always leave comments, THANK YOU SO MUCH! You are the reason I keep doing this. I promise you, without you guys, this story would just be another WIP in a folder.
> 
> I hope you like the ending. I kinda got carried away (what a surprise) and wrote a long-ass chapter, so I decided to divide it into two parts, but worry not! I'm posting them at the same time because I'm not an awful person (or so I hope). See you on the flip side!

Richie’s alarm went off right in the middle of the most amazing dream. He was hosting his own late-night show, The Trashmouther, and people couldn’t stop laughing at his jokes, most of them being about his recent wedding in the Bahamas. He talked about his bitch-of-a-husband complaining about the sandand the heat and the sun and the risks of getting skin cancer, all of this while wearing too much sun cream and a boater hat, and rocking a badass looking scar in the middle of his chest and, overall, being completely and insanely gorgeous. Richie woke up with a grunt, reached for his glasses without even looking, stretched out his arms and rubbed his face with both of his hands.

“Good morning, Eds,” he said, looking at the notebook on his bedside table. He opened it, looked through the pages, smiled at them. “First day on tour, baby. We’re gonna crush it.”

He put the book down back on the bedside table and went to take a shower. He was in a hotel in Nashville, Steve was probably already eating breakfast at the cafeteria, and that night he would perform the first show of his tour. It wasn’t an official tour. It didn’t have a name or anything like that, but they had dates all around the country and they kept booking more places as time passed.

“And none of them even close to New York,” Richie complained to himself, starting to getting dressed. “But don’t worry, Eds. We’ll get there. I promise.”

Talking to a notebook didn’t feel as crazy as Richie had thought the first time. Steve had suggested it and Richie had laughed. It was something Steve had picked up from the time he went to therapy back when he was a teenager and he told Richie to just try it, see if it worked. And it did. Somehow it really did help him feel closer to Eddie, to have him more present.

Richie was writing more, too. That was also Steve’s idea. At first, it was more like a command. Steve said Richie had to step out of his comfort zone if he wanted to get better, to really make a name for himself, to stand out among the sea of other thousand comedians trying to make a living out of it. His stand up was good, it really was, but it lacked something, something that made it special. You only get so far being just charismatic on stage. You also need to be talented.

“Well, I’m not talented, Steve! I’m just a fucking clown, man.”

Yeah, he needed to work on his self-esteem too, but one step at a time.

“You _are_ talented, Richie. Just fucking prove it!” Steve threw his hands in the air. “What can you write that no one else can? What can you do better than any other person on the planet?”

“I can mourn and pine and grieve like a motherfucker, but I think Lord Byron already beat me to it.”

“Well, write about that! Write about grieving, write about feeling like shit, write about loss and pain. Just fucking write, Richie! You’ve got a lot inside you! Take that notebook, find the inspiration inside!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that, Steve?! I’m a comedian!! I need to write about something fucking funny! Not about wanting to fucking shoot myself because I lost the love of my life!”

“No, motherfucker, you don’t need to write about something funny. You’re a _comedian_. You take that shit about wanting to fucking shoot yourself because you lost the love of your life and _make it_ funny!”

Steve was an asshole sometimes, but he was right. He was a good friend, but he was a better agent. So Richie tried. He had heard writing about things helped your brain remember them, like there were different roads to get to your long term memory and, if one of those roads was in bad condition, you could just try another one and see if it worked better. Maybe he did was a shitty writer and had no talent whatsoever and Steve was wrong about him, but at least he could try and, perhaps that could even force his brain to remember Eddie better too.

The show in Nashville went great, and Richie and Steve celebrated it going to a bar and drinking a couple of beers before going back to the hotel and packing up for the next city. Richie had learned his lesson about partying hard back in Phoenix and he didn’t want to risk forgetting Eddie again, even if it was just for a little while.

“You should have seen them, Eds,” Richie smiled while he was getting ready for bed. “They liked it so much they even gave a standing ovation and everything,” he laughed, taking the notebook and opening it.

Lately, it felt like, no matter how many times Richie looked at the pictures, Eddie’s face was slowly fading away from his mind. It didn’t matter. As long as Richie had those pictures he only needed to open the notebook to remember that cute face all over again. It wasn’t so unusual to forget little details of someone’s face, especially if you hadn’t seen them in a while. A picture is not like a real person, the lines, the expression, it’s all static, your brain can’t process the same amount of information. Many months have passed since Richie had seen Eddie for the last time. Richie wondered how his face would look like now.

*

Richie finished his first script while they were traveling through North Dakota. It didn’t look good enough but he showed it to Steve anyway. “Anything you write, you give it to me. I don’t know if it’s shit. I want it,” Steve had said, so Richie did it. It was clear Steve knew more about this than Richie. The bigger Richie got the more he thought he was a sham. He couldn’t be that good, he didn’t feel that good, so what if he was just scamming people? What if Steve was just that good of an agent and he knew how to sell Richie’s mediocrity?

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of you if you talk like that about my best friend ever again,” Steve warned him. “Damn, man, would you say something like that to a friend of yours?” He asked Richie.

“Probably not…” Richie admitted. Yeah, he knew the point Steve was trying to prove. “But I could still think so. I mean, if a friend of mine was mediocre at something I wouldn’t say it to them, but that wouldn’t mean I don’t think they are.”

“That’s fair. You would be kind to them even if you thought they were mediocre, right? Then why the fuck can’t you be kind to yourself?” Steve asked again. “I’m not saying you should get all the self-esteem you obviously need all at once because I know that takes a lot of work, but you could at least be kind to yourself while you work on it.”

Oh. Right. That was a good point.

Richie could try to do that. He wasn’t sure if it was going to work, though. Lately, he had been feeling more and more down each day. No matter how many days passed, how many cities he visited, how much he traveled, he felt stuck. New York was not closer, not even a tiny bit, and the feeling of ever getting there was becoming more and more blurry. Richie remembered how hyped he was at first, the energy, the rush in his veins, eager to get to the end of the road because he knew Eddie would be waiting there. Now the road felt endless and there was no point counting the days because they would become months and nothing would happen. Richie wondered where all that adrenaline had gone.

Sometimes, in the dark of a late flight, Richie would take the notebook and look at the pictures, wondering if those happy kids, that happy couple was still there somewhere inside him. He would look at Steve sleeping in the seat next to him and understand more than ever why he really considered to hold the memories and not giving them back to Richie. Now he knew Eddie was real. He knew the memories he had of them were real. He knew he was in love with Eddie. But somehow those three statements didn’t know how to relate to each other inside Richie’s brain.

Sometimes Richie felt like he was in love with the memory of a memory.

Sometimes Richie wondered if Steve did the right thing giving him that book.

*

It was Richie’s day off, so he had all the right to be in bed at 10 p.m. He needed his sleep. Maybe doing stand-up wasn’t the most tiring job in the world, but it really got exhausting sometimes. Richie put a lot of mental effort into making everything go as good as possible, and it wasn’t just doing stand-up but also rehearsing, trying new jokes, writing, researching… That’s why Richie wanted to punch Steve when he entered his hotel room like it belonged to him (blame Richie for giving him the second keycard), opened the curtains and sat on Richie’s bed, pushing him lightly to wake him up.

“Fuck off, man, come on!” Richie groaned, rolling around and hiding his face in the pillow. “I wanna sleep!”

“Richie, you don’t want to sleep. You want to hear this,” Steve said, and there was something in the tone of his voice Richie hadn’t heard a lot of times but knew too well. It was the same tone he used before telling Richie the agency had offered him a job as an agent, the same tone he used when he booked Richie’s first gig in Phoenix. There were anticipation and excitation and maybe a little bit of fear too. Richie opened just an eye, looking at the blur that was Steve’s face without his glasses.

“What is it?” Richie asked. Steve worried at his bottom lip and giggled. He actually_ giggled_.

“Okay. Don’t freak out.”

“Man, you’re the one freaking out and I’m gonna freak out if you don’t tell me already! What is it??” Richie demanded, trying to sound serious because it better be good enough to justify waking him up on his day off. He couldn’t help to smile a little too because, fuck, Steve’s excitement was contagious.

“You know I’ve been sending your videotapes around, that’s how you get these gigs,” Steve started to explain and Richie rolled his eyes because, yes, he knew how his job worked, thank you very much. “_But_ I also have started sending your writings too. Everything you gave me, your scripts, your notes, everything. I’ve put them together and send them and got back a few calls, most of them weren’t really worth it because, I mean, we’re on tour and we’re making pretty good money right now, but it’s always good to leave doors open…”

“Steve, for God’s sake, let’s get to the point because I swear to God if you woke me up just to tell me—“

“They want you. They want you to write for a late-night talk show. Like, it’s fucking TV, man!” Steve laughed. “They want to hire you, Richie.”

“Wait, wait… you mean no stand-up?” Richie frowned.

“No stand-up. Not for now at least, but listen…”

“But we’re in the middle of a tour!”

“You can start after you’re finished touring, I’ve already talked to them…”

“You’ve talked to them without consulting me??”

“Richie, I’m your agent!”

“But I like doing stand-up! It’s what I do, it’s my job!”

“Richie, you could keep doing stand-up but you’d also have a stable job…”

“And I’d have to dedicate most of my time to do something I’m not even sure I’d be good at!”

“Can you let me finish, Richie??”

“I don’t know, man, I think you should have consulted—“

“It’s in New York, Richie!” Steve almost yelled and Richie immediately stopped talking. He didn’t say a word but his face must have been enough because Steve took the notebook on Richie’s bedside table and pointed at it looking at Richie like he was talking to a five-year-old. “It’s in New York. I got you a well paid, stable job in New York,” he repeated, slowly, as Richie felt his eyes welling up, “so you better stop complaining right now and give me a fucking hug, asshole.” Steve laughed, opening his arms for Richie to jump on him, hugging him so hard they both fell on the bed.

“We did it,” Richie said and Steve laughed, nodding and hugging Richie back.

“We did it, Rich. We did it.”

Richie couldn’t believe it. So much time wishing, hoping he would find the way to go to New York, maybe even just for a gig, just for a day, and now Steve had managed to get him a real job there. It felt unreal.

“When do I start?” Richie asked. In his head, he had already started to play every possible scenario.

“You’ve got the interview on September 23, which means we’ll have to take a flight as soon as you finish your show in Dallas to be there on time. But you don’t need to worry about that, I’ve got it. You just focus on not screwing up the opportunity.”

“That helps a lot, thanks!” Richie laughed and Steve patted his back.

“You’ve got this, Richie. Just be yourself.”

Be yourself.

That was good advice except for the fact that Richie had spent most of his life hiding the parts of himself he didn’t think people would like. He had thought about it, about being more “himself”… He wasn’t ready. It was too scary to come out, no matter how many times Steve assured him the entertainment business was open enough to accept him no matter what his sexuality was. He wasn’t brave enough, but mostly he didn’t know if Eddie would be ready either.

Because he wanted a relationship with Eddie. That was an understatement.

(Unless Eddie didn’t want to. But he would. Like, they already had a relationship before, sort of. Why wouldn’t he want to?)

Eddie’s career wasn’t as open and understanding as the entertainment business, though. And Eddie was always a pretty private person, so maybe it was for the best if people didn’t know about them. Richie didn’t care at all. Being with Eddie was the only thing that mattered, so Richie would be okay with wearing a fake mustache and contact lenses every time they go out together if he had to.

“Okay, so I’ll tell them about my experience at The Spot, I’ll bring some of my best scripts so far, I’ll crack some jokes but not too many, and I won’t talk about my sexuality.”

“They won’t ask, Richie,” Steve laughed. “Just relax, man.”

Yeah, relax. That was some nice advice, totally unattainable, but nice anyway. Richie knew he would need more than just a shot of whiskey before he went to the interview, but he couldn’t drink at all because he didn’t want to go in there smelling like a nightclub. Steve also said he wouldn’t let him take any drugs, prescription or otherwise. He just kept saying Richie needed to be himself, so Richie spent the remaining days until the interview preparing every single possible question and the possible answers.

Also, that feeling of being stuck? Completely gone. The energy came back ten times stronger and sometimes it felt like his heart was going to burst. Thank God he was good at improvising because it did affect his stand-up a little, forgetting chunks of it and having to fill the gaps with the first stupid thing that would come to his mind. Steve didn’t like it, but people weren’t complaining.

The night before taking the flight to New York he almost had to cancel, and Steve almost killed him. Richie was too nervous to perform and he knew if he went out there he would ruin everything. Steve got really mad. “If you’re not ready to work under this much pressure then we better cancel the interview because you’re not ready for fucking New York, Richie!” He yelled. And he was right. Again. So Richie went there and did his show better than he expected.

And then he spent the rest of the night in the bathroom shitting himself to death.

*

“Come with me,” Richie asked. Steve looked at him like he was crazy.

The interview went great, better than Richie had ever imagined. He signed the contract and shook the girl’s hand and smiled wide when she said “welcome aboard”. They would send the details of what he would need to do every week over the weekend via email. He could do most of the work from home although he would be required to reunite in the writer's room at least once a month, sometimes more.

“Richie, you start next Monday. I really need to find you an apartment,” Steve said. “And, above that, _I can’t tag along to reunite with your long lost boyfriend!_”

“Why?”

“Dude! Are you serious? That’s something you need to do alone!” Steve laughed. “What would I do when you two start fucking like rabbits? Record it?” Richie made a considering face and Steve laughed harder. “You’ve got this man.”

“Okay,” Richie nodded.

Okay.

Richie grabbed his backpack and walked out of the hotel, calling a cab.

He wasn’t sure if the drive was long or short, he kind of spaced out. It felt like a second and it felt like hours, but the moment the cab stopped and the driver told Richie they had arrived it mostly felt surreal.

He paid, got out, and walked to the front door.

So there he was, right at the door of Eddie’s home, or at least what he thought it was Eddie’s home. That was the address Eddie had given him a long time ago. Richie hoped Eddie hadn’t back up at the last minute and not buy it because it would be very awkward to knock at the door just to find a random person answering it. Although, thinking about it, Richie would rather find a random person lived there because Eddie hadn’t bought the house instead of… well, finding out Eddie did live there, along with another person.

He hadn’t thought about that, or he had tried not to. It had been too long since they were together, almost a year, and Eddie was a handsome man… Richie was sure Eddie hadn't stayed celibate during that time, and he was fine with it. Eddie didn’t remember him, after all. But Richie really hoped Eddie wasn’t dating anyone.

_That’s kind of selfish, don’t you think? He’s allowed to be happy without you. Maybe he’s happier without you._

Richie shook his head. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

His heartbeats were so loud in his ears he almost missed the steps approaching the door, the sound of the lock turning, the…

“Hello. How can I help you?”

Shit.

Richie was speechless.

He was there. Eddie was there, and he looked… different. But good! Like… fuck. _Shit_, Richie didn’t, couldn’t, process it. His brain couldn’t handle it. Fuck, he was so gorgeous. Was he always that gorgeous? Richie didn’t remember him so breathtakingly handsome. And he wasn’t even dressed up at all, he was wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, and his hair was kind of messy and… fuck, he had facial hair too. Richie didn’t even know Eddie could grow facial hair but he looked… shit, _hot!_ But he also looked pretty confused because Richie hadn’t said a word since Eddie opened the door and he was probably looking pretty dumb standing there without saying anything.

“I, uh. I’m Richie Tozier?” Richie said. There was hope in his words. Eddie’s face didn’t change, or maybe it did but just a little bit, the kind of guilty face you make when you don’t remember someone you suppose you should. Richie tried to help. “We talked… uh. We met, back in L.A.? The Spot. You came to…”

“Oh, shit, right!” Eddie’s eyes lightened up and he smiled. Richie’s heartskipped a beat. “Yeah, you’re the comedian! Sorry, I didn’t remember you at first. So many faces, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Richie agreed, trying not to let his smile fall too much.

He didn’t remember.

Eddie didn’t remember him. He remembered Richie Tozier, the comedian, of course, but he didn’t remember Richie. He didn’t remember them.

Richie felt a little dizzy. He felt sick. Suddenly he was watching the situation from afar, he was out of his body, he was no longer in control, he was just a puppet. What next? What was he supposed to do next? There were too many voices in his head and none of them was his. Richie had been waiting for this moment for what felt like ages, for him to finally reunite with Eddie so they could be Richie-and-Eddie again, but Eddie didn’t recognize him as that ‘Richie’ because there was no Richie-and-Eddie. He was another Richie. He was just a man named Richie. Just a body, a face with no meaning behind.

If Eddie didn’t remember him, was he even real?

“So, what are you doing here? Did something happen at The Spot? Your agent called me a while ago and said a friend of yours was thinking about buying the place, investing or something like that,” Eddie asked. That was fair. Why would someone you worked for once come see you? It had to be work-related. Fuck, what was Richie thinking?

“Yeah, no, I don’t… I guess the place is fine, I don’t really. That’s not why I came,” Richie said. Eddie gave him an understanding nod, and then none of them spoke again.

Richie should have spoken again. He knew he had to do it. He knew he was supposed to tell Eddie the real reason why he came to his fucking house, knocked on his door and bothered him on his day off. How to do that without looking like a total creep? Well, that was harder than Richie had thought.

He really expected Eddie to remember him when he saw him, thinking somehow his stupid face would evoke Eddie’s memories. But his face didn’t make Eddie remember the first time they met back in L.A., neither did Eddie’s face evoke any memory in Richie. There was no reason why Richie’s plan would have worked. And so it didn’t.

And now Richie didn’t know what to do next. He needed to think fast and he wasn’t good at that. He was good at talking fast, at not thinking at all, but this was a matter he couldn’t take lightly. He needed to decide between telling Eddie the truth and risking sounding like a mad man if Eddie didn’t remember him, or just make up a quick excuse and maybe, just maybe, hoping Eddie didn’t find him creepy enough, convince him to hang out some time now that Richie would live in the same city, maybe try to charm him again…

Or maybe he should just let Eddie live his life. Spare him the pain. Let him live in a world where there were no evil beings and children weren’t eaten alive and he wasn’t the target of a supernatural entity. Maybe he should be brave enough to do what Steve didn’t have the courage to do to him.

“Why did you come, then?” Eddie asked again.

Richie needed to answer. He needed to make a decision, or else…

“Oh, I just. I actually got a job in the city, you know, as a writer. And, since I don’t really know anyone else and you gave me your address some time ago, I guessed… I thought I could pay you a visit.”

His anxiety made the decision for him. He never performed well under pressure and he couldn’t make such a big decision in such a little time, so he played safe, as safe as he could.

It wasn’t a mistake. It would be plenty of time to tell Eddie. Or maybe Richie could just wait until Eddie’s memories came back on their own like it happened the first time. Maybe they could still be together even if Eddie didn’t remember, because he could like Richie anyway, right? This Richie. The one that didn’t come with a burden.

Except now Eddie was looking at him weird and did Richie make himself look more like a creep now? Who the hell goes to someone else’s house just to say ‘hello, I live in the same city as you now’? It didn’t make sense! It sounded like some stalker shit! Did Richie fuck it up?

“Oh. That’s… nice,” Eddie said just because he was trying to be polite, probably because he didn’t want that stranger he had met once and didn’t even remember to murder him right there at his front door.

“Yeah, sorry, now I see this wasn’t really appropriate,” Richie tried to excuse himself, tried to laugh it off, but the truth was he just wanted to cry.

No. No, he just wanted to hug Eddie. He just wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him how much he’s missed him and how he won’t ever let him go, ever again. And he wanted to say he regretted not accepting his offer back when Eddie told him to come to live with him because right now he would _kill_ to call that house his home, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

He couldn’t do any of that. Because he had an opportunity and he let it pass.

And now it was too late. He couldn’t go back.

Shit, he really wanted to cry. But he also wanted to punch himself in the face.

“Hey, no, I get it,” Eddie said with half a smile, a softer one, a sincere one. “I know how it is. I moved here not that long ago, I bought this house like a year ago, broke up with my long-time girlfriend, came here to live all alone, and this place is fucking huge. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said yes,” he laughed. “I didn’t know anyone from this part of town either, only my coworkers, and they’re not that friendly. Or maybe it’s my fault. I’m a little bit quirky, but I bet you know that already if we worked together.”

“Yeah, I get the picture,” Richie smiled too. He mentally thanked Eddie for not making him feel even more awkward than he already felt.

“I’ll give you my number, okay? Come in, I’ll write it down for you,” Eddie said, and just like that Richie walked into Eddie’s house, the door closing behind him.

He held onto his backpack as he walked in, looking around everywhere, seeing Eddie all over the place. Tidy, neat, clean, and so very tasteful. Modern, too, maybe more than Richie had imagined, totally opposed to what Eddie’s hotel room was. This house had a personality and is screamed Eddie all over the place.

“This is my business card. I guess this is the number your agent got from my office. I’ll write my personal number on the back, so now you have both of them,” Eddie said, leaning over a desk in what looked like his office.

“It’s not the same number you had before, right?” Richie asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted to know what happened. Some part of him wanted to know if Eddie just gave up on themselves and just…

“Oh, right, no. Not at all,” Eddie immediately said, handing Richie the card. “That was a mess, actually. My office gave me a business phone and I took the time to personally call, leave a message, and email all of my clients to let them know I had a new number and to ask them to _please_ delete the previous one. But guess what? They didn’t give a fuck. They kept calling me whenever they had a problem, even just to make the stupidest questions and… well,” Eddie made a guilty face, giving Richie an embarrassed smile. “I guess I had a really bad panic attack because people kept calling and… I had a lot of anxiety back then, I think I was expecting a phone call? And I didn’t want my clients to collapse the line, you know? It sounds really unprofessional, especially since I don’t even remember whose phonecall I was waiting for, but it was important, I promise,” Eddie smiled, and Richie smiled too. “Anyway, long story short, I crashed the phone.”

“Oh, shit!”

“Yeah, very mature on my part. Anyway, I took the chance and just got a new number. I thought it wouldn’t matter, but it turned out I had most of my contacts saved on the cellphone’s memory instead of the SIM card. So I lost a lot of contacts. A good thing, though, I lost my ex’s contact too, so I couldn’t go back to her even if I did think about it for a while.”

“Oh, thank God!” Richie let out a deep sigh of relief. Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, if you broke up with her she would probably not be the right one for you.”

“Yeah, she really wasn’t,” Eddie laughed.

Fuck, Richie really wanted to hug him. Would it be too much if he tried to say good-bye with a hug? A moment of silence lingered while they both just looked at each other. Could Eddie see how deeply in love Richie was with him? Was he going to call the cops the moment Richie walked out of the house? He shouldn’t push his luck.

“Well, thanks for this,” Richie said, holding Eddie’s card before putting it away in his back pocket. “I promise I won’t pester you too much, in case you’re waiting for an important call,” he joked, making Eddie laugh. “We don’t want any more cases of crashed cellphones.”

“No important calls lately,” Eddie made a face and shrugged. “I have a pretty standard nine to five job, Monday to Friday, so I’m free the rest of the time.”

“I think I’ll do most of my work from home… once my agent gets me an apartment,” Richie laughed. “But I want to keep doing stand-up, even if it’s just for fun. Maybe you could come see me sometime?”

“It doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Eddie smiled and Richie did too. Both of them walked out of Eddie’s office, back to the front door. “Give me a call, then. Or should I look for a big billboard with your name on it?”

“Oh, yes. The great Richie Tozier, live in New York City,” Richie joked. Eddie chuckled but he made a weird face. “It’s a joke. I’m not even…”

“No, sorry, it’s just,” Eddie chuckled again. “Do you… Do you mind coming back to my office? I need to show you something.”

Richie frowned but just nodded and followed Eddie. The moment they got in, Eddie opened a drawer and grabbed a planner, opening it, turning the pages one at a time, looking through it, and then closing it again, looking at Richie.

“What?” Richie asked. He was starting to feel a little anxious again. Eddie had a face he couldn’t decipher, he didn’t know what was going on, and he felt like if he didn’t find out soon he was going to have a heart attack.

“Look at this,” Eddie said, handing Richie the planner. Richie took it, but he didn’t open it, like it was going to explode if he made a move.

“What? Why?” He asked, looking down at the planner in his hand. “Which page?”

“Just look at it!” Eddie looked nervous now too, maybe even more than Richie, so Richie just did what he was told.

He opened the planner. Nothing special, just notes, appointments, reminders. ‘Business Trip to Los Angeles’ in big, bold letters, a few more notes and then…

“_Oh_,” Richie whispered.

**Call Richie Tozier**

**Call Richie Tozier**

**Call Richie Tozier**

**Call Richie Tozier**


	16. Us (part 2)

**Call Richie Tozier**

**Call Richie Tozier**

**Call Richie Tozier**

**Call Richie Tozier**

“Keep turning the pages,” Eddie said, and Richie did. The same was written in all of them, every day, all the way to the back. When Richie looked back at Eddie his heart was hammering in his chest. Eddie was shaking, and he pointed at Richie with his finger. “That’s you, right?” He asked. No, he demanded. Richie didn’t know what to say. “I almost went crazy, you know?! I don’t remember writing that down!” Eddie nearly screamed. “I came home after the breakdown I had over crashing my stupid phone and went to sleep and then, the next morning when I looked at my planner those where there! Your name! All over the pages!”

“Shit, Eddie, I…”

“And the most fucked up thing is I didn’t remember now, either! Not until you said your name again. But you had said it before, too, and I didn’t remember then. I just… You said it, maybe it was the way that you said it or I don’t fucking know. It clicked. Something inside me clicked and I remembered but, how the fuck did I forget that??”

“Look, I can explain,” Richie held his hands up and backed up a few steps. Way to show Eddie he wasn’t some sort of stalker/creep. Eddie’s eyes went big and his face showed true horror. Okay, now he really though Richie had something to do with it.

“Who are you??” Eddie asked, getting more and more nervous. “Did you do that??”

“No! Shit, Eds, how could…” Richie covered his face with his hands. Shit, coming here had been such a bad idea. He should have brought Steve! Y_ou need to do it alone_, fuck off, Steve!

“I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out, man, and I swear to God I’m gonna have an asthma attack,” Eddie warned, staring to gasp for air. “Shit, do I have asthma?? Shit, what is this??”

“Eddie. Eds, come on. Let’s… let’s sit, okay? Where’s the living room?”

“Like you don’t know already, psycho!” Eddie growled like a wounded animal, but he moved too, walking to the living room and sitting on the nearest couch. Richie sat too, maintaining a safe distance, giving Eddie some space.

“Look, I know this seems crazy, but there’s an explanation, okay? Let me call my agent and…” Richie took off his backpack to reach for his cellphone.

“Your agent? What the fuck? Is this some sort of sick game? Are you one of those conceptual artists? Is killing me a performance??”

“Eddie, you’re overreacting, man,” Richie let out a nervous laugh because, although the situation was pretty serious and Eddie was seconds from calling 911, he had to admit watching Eddie being completely paranoid was kind of funny too. “Steve is my agent. He’s also my best friend. Steve, remember? You know Steve. Steve Covall, kinda short, always bosses me around, sarcastic, gay as fuck,” Richie said, and right when he was numbering the many virtues of Steve he realized… Were Steve and Eddie that much alike? Richie shuddered. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Steve Covall?” Eddie said, and blinked once or twice, like his brain was trying to catch up. It was enough to make him breathe a little more evenly.

“Yeah. He knows you. He knows… about us. He will—“

Richie stopped talking when he opened his backpack and saw it.

The notebook. It was there.

Steve should have put it there, because Richie never moved it from his bedside table. In fact, that’s where he left it, right on the bedside table, safe in his hotel room! Goddammit, Steve, what if he had lost the damned backpack? What if something had happened? What if…?

“What is it?” Eddie asked from afar, holding a pillow as a shield and looking at Richie. “What you got there? Is it a bomb? Did you bring a fucking bomb to my fucking house??”

“Eddie!” Richie yelled, loud enough to startled Eddie and make him jump. He closed his eyes and regretted it immediately, but really, he couldn’t handle that much. It was too much. He was a fucking comedian, for God’s sake, If he had wanted this kind of drama in his life he would have joined the navy or some shit like that. He took a deep breath and took out the notebook. “Here,” he said, handing the book to Eddie. “I guess I also have something you should look at.”

Richie regretted giving Eddie the notebook even before he actually did it. He didn’t know what that notebook could do to Eddie. He didn’t know if it was even safe to get back all those memories at once. He wouldn’t forgive himself if somehow he managed to hurt Eddie, even if it was unintentionally, but on the other hand, he didn’t know what else to do. Eddie was freaking out and he had the right to be. He already knew part of the story so it was only fair he could get the whole truth.

Richie closed his eyes when Eddie took the notebook like he wasn’t sure if he should but the curiosity was stronger than his doubts. They both took a deep breath before Eddie gathered the courage to open it.

That was it. Whatever was going to happen, it would happen.

Richie kind of got ready for another crazy rant, but nothing came. Eddie didn’t say a word. He just kept turning the pages, looking at them. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable but it was painful. Every second Eddie didn’t say a word hurt like a motherfucker and Richie wasn’t sure if he could handle it any longer.

“Say something,” he asked, keeping his voice low enough to not disturb the silence. “Eddie, please. Say something. Anything.”

Eddie didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Richie. He just kept looking at the pictures. Fuck, what if that didn’t make him remember either? What if Eddie was just looking at some pictures with his face on it but he couldn’t recognize those memories? What if he thought it was all staged?

Richie wanted to say something else, but what exactly? What could he say to make it better?

Eddie finished looking at the pictures, closed the notebook and put it aside. When he looked back at Richie, his eyes were welling up.

“Shit. Eds, I can explain,” Richie tried, babbling words. “I promise I’m not a weirdo, I just—“

Richie’s vision went black when Eddie almost tackled him down, making him fall back on the couch when he hugged him. Eddie’s hands fisted Richie’s shirt, his knuckles pressing hard on Richie’s back. His face hid on Richie’s neck when he let out a pained cry, sobbing like a child and pushing himself against Richie like he wanted to go through him, like he wanted to hide inside, hugging him so hard Richie could barely breathe.

But, fuck, he had never felt so alive.

He put his arms around Eddie immediately, pushing his nose into his neck to down in Eddie’s scent. Jesus, he had been starving and Eddie’s body warm and soft against him was like manna from heaven. It was electric, every one of his nerve cells shaking, firing up. He had wanted to do that since he saw Eddie opening the door and he had been dying to just touch him. And now, there he was, right in Richie’s arms, like time hadn’t passed at all.

“Don’t cry,” Richie smiled, stroking Eddie’s hair and kissing his temple. It wasn’t the best advice coming from him, since he was also on the verge of tears.

“It was my fault,” Eddie said, hugging Richie closer, hiding his face. “I let it happen. I fucked up.”

“No, Eds, listen. It wasn’t your fault.” Was that the reason Eddie was crying? He blamed himself?

“It was! I fucked up because I can’t function properly and I crashed the damn phone and I had a meltdown and I promised myself I wouldn’t forget until I fixed it but I… I did. I forgot. I forgot you, Richie.”

Richie leaned back and held Eddie’s head in his hands, looking at him. His cheeks were red and his nose was running, his whole face was wet and his eyelashes were stuck together for all the crying. A warm feeling installed in Richie’s chest. Eddie had changed, physically. His face had more angles, it looked more mature, his hair was styled differently and his lips were thinner, but when Richie looked at him he still saw the same kid he had fallen in love with so many years ago.

He was the same kid who would cry because Richie was beaten up because he couldn’t get his mouth shut, the same kid who would have nervous breakdowns thinking about diseases and bacteria and, even more important, what his mom would say, the same kid Richie would rush to put an inhaler in his mouth when he couldn’t breath, just because Richie couldn’t stand seeing Eddie in distress. And thinking about it, maybe Richie was the same kid too.

“It’s fine, Eds,” Richie said, brushing the tears off Eddie’s face with his thumbs. “I forgot too,” he confessed. It made Eddie stop crying, just a little at least. “I forgot and I wanted to blame Steve for letting me forget you, even if it was just for a few minutes, but the truth is it was my fault. I guess I wasn’t good enough at planning how to keep remembering you. I mean, that notebook was Steve’s idea and I probably owe him my life now,” Richie laughed. “But maybe it was just… meant to be. Maybe there are things we can’t fight. Not alone.”

Eddie looked down, taking a deep breath and nodding. He put one of his hands on top of Richie’s, still on Eddie’s face, leaning into it and sighing.

“It did this, right? It made us forget,” Eddie said. Richie stroked his cheek. “That means It is alive. We didn’t kill It.”

“We were kids, Eds.” Richie reminded him. “But we will. We made a promise. 27 years.”

“Not that many anymore,” Eddie said, and he was right. Not 27 years anymore. Just eleven. “What if the others don’t remember?”

“They will. It’s impossible we’re the only ones who had figured out what happened. It was our childhood. Our parents remember they lived in Derry once, my dad gave me those pictures of us when we were kids.”

“Not all of us were that lucky,” Eddie said, and he was right all over again. Eddie’s mom was nothing like Richie’s parents, neither was Beverly’s dad, or Bill’s parents. Damn, Mike’s parents were dead.

“We’ll find them. Somehow. And if we can’t find them, then we’ll do it together. Just the two of us.”

That was a risky thing to say. Richie would need to be very brave to go to Derry and fight the clown all over again. It was already frightening the first time, and all his friends were there. He wasn’t sure if he could put Eddie’s life on risk like that.

“That’s the only way we could keep remembering each other, right?” Eddie said. He didn’t even question Richie. Fuck, Eddie was so much braver than him.

“I guess. I don’t really know. I do hope so,” Richie sighed, giving Eddie a small smile. “But, in the meantime, we can… be together.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Eddie smiled too.

They both looked at each other. So, it was time, right? Richie was dying to kiss him and it seemed like the time had come. But Eddie hadn't said anything and it was making Richie just a little bit anxious because Eddie remembered everything, right? Not just their past but their… relationship. Right?

“So… how much do you remember exactly?” Richie asked. Eddie looked at him like he wasn’t expecting that question.

“I guess I remember everything. Although I wouldn’t know, because… well, if I don’t remember something then I don’t remember not remembering.”

“Yeah. Right,” Richie nodded. So that didn’t help. But Eddie was still almost completely on top of him and they were touching and Eddie wouldn’t do that with him if he didn’t think they were together together, right? Except for how Eddie did that all the time when they were kids and no one ever questioned it, not even Richie. He was always a blind motherfucker. Literally.

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing. Just… wondering.” Richie shrugged. Eddie gave him a dirty look. Oh, that was the Eddie Richie knew.

“Wondering _what_, Richie?”

“Just…” Richie took a deep breath. Here we go. “I mean, do you still like me? Like, you know, like romantically. Because I kinda felt like we were flirting a moment ago when you said all those things about no one important calling you anymore, and we did have a thing back in L.A. and, well, there’s the whole being in love with you since we were kids but…”

“Oh my God, Richie!” Eddie laughed. He laughed at Richie, it was pretty clear. “Of course I still _love_ you!” He didn’t even use the same word Richie had used. He used the word ‘love’ and Richie couldn’t be a happier man. Except…

“But you haven’t kissed me yet! I mean, no offense, but it was you who threw yourself at me and who’s still on top of me, and you just hugged me. Which was fine, but not even a kiss? Mixed signals much, Eds?”

“I’ve just remembered you! Can’t a man take his time anymore? Is chivalry dead?” Eddie laughed awkwardly.

“We’ve fucked, Eddie,” Richie reminded him, and Eddie’s face went completely red.

“Well… there weren’t pictures of _that_,” he replied and Richie wasn’t sure if that meant Eddie didn’t remember that part but, if he didn’t before, his face told he totally remembered now.

“Did you want pictures? We can take pictures,” Richie teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We _cannot!_ Jesus, you’re such a dick!” Eddie complained, but he was still laughing, and he hadn’t moved an inch from Richie’s lap.

“Okay, okay, no pictures,” Richie agreed, carefully lowering his hands and putting them on Eddie’s hips. “As long as you promise you remember,” Richie said, kind of risking it but taking the chance. Eddie’s face couldn’t look redder. “Do you remember?”

Eddie took a few seconds to answer, looking away and working at his bottom lip, but Richie already knew what he was going to say.

“I do,” he finally said.

Richie would be embarrassed to admit how many times he had dreams in which Eddie said those exact same words in a different context.

Eddie looked back at him again, with his cheeks red and his eyes shiny, looking from above like a goddamned angel. Richie was sure he must have had the dumbest face and the stupidest smile, but he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t believe there was a way his heart could forget how much love there was in it for Eddie. His fucking chest felt like it was going to burst.

“We don’t need to do anything,” Richie said. “I’d be happy to just look at your face for the rest of my days.”

“Richie, come on…” Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help to let out a little giggle.

“What? It’s the truth, man! What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t need to say _everything_ that goes through your head!”

“Oh, you know well enough I do! I’m in fucking love, Edward!”

“Shut up!”

“Let yourself be loved!!”

“Oh my…” Eddie groaned, held Richie’s face with both of his hands and crashed their lips together.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe he just didn’t remember, but Richie could swear, he could _swear_, he had never felt anything like this.

The moment Eddie’s lips touched him he was melting, his muscles releasing all the accumulated tension from all of these months, his body becoming pliant and soft and welcoming. He put his arms around Eddie, fisting his t-shirt to keep him close, closer, to never let him go, ever again.

Shit, now he wanted to cry.

“I lied.” Richie groaned, low and broken and close to Eddie’s mouth just in case. “I wouldn’t be happy just looking at you. I think I would die if I couldn’t touch you.”

He pulled Eddie back for another kiss, to keep him from saying something witty or something sarcastic. Richie didn’t need that now. He didn’t need words. He just needed to rebuild the bond that was so severely damaged, to feel Eddie’s skin against his, to melt together.

He didn’t know he was so touch starved, but now that he had Eddie in his arms he couldn’t let him go, like finally finding a warm, sunny spot in the cold winter. Eddie was the sun. Eddie was everything good in the world. Eddie was a cure for depression, anxiety, stress, and all those things that kept Richie awake at night. Eddie was the reason Richie could live to a hundred years. No wonder how much Eddie complained about bacteria and disease. Eddie was pure medicine.

“I love you,” Richie said when he finally allowed himself to take a breath, looking at Eddie with his eyes full of love. And he knew it right there. Love. The real meaning of the word. That was it.

“Stay,” Eddie replied, holding himself on Richie’s chest and looking at him seriously. “You have a job here, right? Call Steve. Tell him to stop looking for a place for you. Stay here. With me.”

“Eddie…”

“I know I asked before and I know you said no and, fuck, I know it seems too soon but it’s not. It’s not, and I can’t—“

“Yes,” Richie cut him, smiling and touching Eddie’s face, stroking his cheek. “Yes. Yes. Of course. Yes.”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiled too, letting out a short, nervous laugh.

“Yeah, this house is too big for you anyway,” Richie joked.

“My bed is too big too,” Eddie replied.

Richie smiled, turning a bit wolfish when he added, “do you know what else is big?” He burst out laughing when Eddie rolled his eyes and groaned.

“I should kick you out just because of that,” Eddie threatened, but instead of doing that he stood up and took Richie’s hand, and they both walked to what looked like Eddie’s really big master bedroom, to his really big bed.

Richie never spoke again. Except for just some little words, here and there, Eddie’s name, soft curses, yes. Yes. Fuck, yes. But he mostly let his body talk, his hands and his lips and his fingers and his hips. And when they both fell exhausted and covered in sweat Richie knew he would do it all over again. And again. And again.

“I love you,” Eddie said. Richie smiled.

Fuck, how much he had missed those words.

Eddie got out of the bed, “I’ll bring a bottle of water and something to clean us up,” he said. Richie watched him leave the room, his eyes touching every bit of Eddie’s exposed skin. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What a weird thing to do, to be back to a life you never left but it was always yours anyway. It didn’t feel like the end, but it didn’t feel like a beginning either.

They weren’t done yet.

Eddie came back with water and a towel on one hand, and Richie’s notebook on the other. Once rehydrated and clean again, they both sat up on the bed, resting their backs on the headboard, opening the book and looking through the pages.

There were things Eddie still didn’t remember, things that weren’t pictured there, names of friends he hadn’t say out loud in a really long time. Richie helped him as much as he could, but some things escaped him too.

“This could happen again, right?” Eddie asked, his fingers carefully touching the pages of the book, the pictures of a life he didn’t remember until barely minutes ago. “We forgot once, we forgot twice… I go on a business trip for a couple of days and I forget a third time and suddenly you don’t mean anything to me all over again, or my fucking phone dies or…”

“Or I go on tour and spend months away and we…” Richie nodded. He understood Eddie’s feelings too well. “Shit, I mean, it wasn’t even a week, you know? We stopped talking for a few days and you forgot. And alcohol definitely makes things worse. I forgot about you _overnight._ We can’t win, right?” Richie let out a soft, sad chuckle. “It doesn’t want us to remember.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Eddie said suddenly, reaching for Richie’s hand, holding it. Richie looked up at him, seeing hope in Eddie’s eyes. A different kind of hope. “It doesn’t really matter, you know? If we do forget… I will still love you.”

“I know, Eds. I—“

“No, I mean it. I need you to understand, okay?” Eddie looked determined, like he had figured out something Richie couldn’t yet grasp. “I will always love you. Always. No matter what happens, I love you. Even if I don’t remember you, I still love you. I didn’t fall in love with you back in L.A., I was already in love with you. The moment I saw you I knew I loved you, and yeah, it was crazy and scary and I didn’t know your name or anything about you, but I knew I loved you. The same thing happened when you showed up at my door. I didn’t know who you were, but I knew I loved you. I just knew.”

Yes. That was right. The feeling had always been there, even when Richie didn’t know the name, it didn’t matter. It was there.

“I know. I felt it too, back when we first met. Again.”

“It wants us to forget, but it can only mess with our heads, not with our hearts.” Eddie took Richie’s hand, facing up his palm, touching the light scar they shared. “We made a promise. We said we would come back if It wasn’t dead, and we will come back. And maybe we’ll go together or maybe we’ll…” Eddie shook his head. “Whatever happens, I want you to know, the moment I see your face I will love you, just like the first time. I will love you, because I would have never stopped.”

And right there Richie understood. It made sense their reunion didn’t feel like the beginning, because they had loved each other before. It didn’t feel like the end of the road because the would love each other again. Because being together, loving each other, wasn’t a goal to reach, it was the natural order of things. They would never forget each other even if they did. They would never stop loving each other even if it felt like it.

And even It couldn’t change that. Even death.

They were bigger than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a wild ride, guys. I hope it was worth it. I love you all and I hope we'll meet again (soon) <3


End file.
